^^■C^A^^Xxj^^ ^ 



LIFE 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS, 



LATE MINISTER OF THE OLD SOUTH CHURCH IN BOSTON. 



NEW EDITION. 



BOSTON : 

JAMES MUNROE AND COMPANY. 
1846. 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1846, by 

W. A. Stearns, 

in tlio Clcrk^s OiTice of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 



6- 



^1 



BOSTON: 
FRITTTCD BY THURSTOIt, TORBT A5D CO. 

3J Devonshire Street. 



i 



I off 



PREEACE. 



The account of the Life and Character of 
Mr. Stearns has been extended beyond what 
was at first anticipated. Many of his letters, 
written in Europe, and copious extracts from 
his Note Book for Italy, will be found incorpo- 
rated with the Memoir. It may not be neces- 
sary to apologize for the subject-matter or for 
the literary execution of them. But it should 
be remembered, that they were written with 
confidential and unstudied freedom, sketched, 
often in weariness and in haste, for the enter- 
tainment of friends, or to aid the author's own 
recollections of interesting scenes. From the 
nature of the case, they could not be advanta- 
geously revised, even if any one had been 
disposed to attempt a revision. They are, 



IV PREFACE. 

therefore, given to the press, without correc- 
tion, just as they were written; — as a record 
of first impressions, fresh and warm from the 
heart. 

In the choice of extracts from the Note 
Book, the editor selected those passages which 
appear to have been written with the greatest 
fulness, and at the same time best illustrate 
the taste and peculiarities of their author. 
Even in these, some of the obscurer names 
of persons and places were so nearly illegible, 
from the haste and confusion with which they 
were committed to paper, that inaccuracies of 
orthography may possibly be detected. 

The first edition of this Memoir was pub- 
lished in connection with a few select dis- 
courses. Both parts of that work were re- 
ceived by the public with unqualified favor. 
The edition was exhausted in a fevv weeks ; 
but numerous calls for copies seemed to indi- 
cate that the community were not supplied. 

In 1839 a second edition was published. 
It contained the Life and Character with some 



PREFACE. 



slight emendations, and with several new let- 
ters written by Mr. S. in Europe, to some 
friends in this country, but not received by the 
editor till after the first edition had passed 
through the press. 

The Memoir and Discourses, in two vol- 
umes, are now submitted once more to the 
candor of a community less inclined to censo- 
rious criticism than to literary sympathy and 
good will. 

W. A. STEARNS. 
Cambridge, 26 Dec. 1845, 



^ 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 
His Parentage — Early Education — and Piety, ... 1 

CHAPTER n. 
His College Life, 12 

CHAPTER HI. 

His connection with Phillips Academy, as an Instructor — Efforts 
to regain and confirm health by Manual Labor — Professional 
Studies, 25 

CHAPTER IV. 
His Preaching in Philadelphia — Relaxation and Studies at Bed- 
ford — Preaching in various places — Interest in his native town 
— - Death of a Sister, 34 

CHAPTER V. 

Settlement in Boston — Failure of Health — Death of his Father 
— Efforts to recover — Dismission, 60 

CHAPTER VL 

Journey to Washington — Voyage to Europe — Foreign Travels, 75 

CHAPTER VH. 

Foreign Travels, continued — Letters, 120 



Vlll CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER VIII. 
Extracts from his Note Book — Letters, 137 

CHAPTER IX. 
Sickness and Death, 

CHAPTER X. 
Further Notices of his Character — Conclusion, . . . 219 



APPENDIX. 
Letter from Rev. R. Baird, to a gentleman in Boston, 



LIFE AND CHARACTER 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 



CHAPTER I. 

HIS PARENTAGE — EARLY EDUCATION — AND EARLY PIETY. 

Friendship derives a melancholy satisfaction 
from the faithful portraits of those who were loved 
and respected while living. But as these are only 
resemblances of features which have lost their ex- 
pression, and their interest, except as a remembered 
good, the feelings of intelligent survivors are much 
more gratified with an exhibition of that which can- 
not die, — the character — the mind. 

When that mind is of a high order, and possessing 
marked and pleasing characteristics, has been en- 
riched by study, and has brought genius, judgment 
and learning to the examination of important sub- 
jects, the world are in some degree losers, unless its 
lineaments are sketched and the fruits of its powers 
preserved. 

VOL. I. 1 



Z LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

In presenting a volume of Discourses, with brief 
reminiscences of their author, a higher consideration 
than either of those suggested bears sway. The 
deceased fell at the very threshold of his profession, 
the message on his lip undelivered, the errand un- 
told, the great work, to which from childhood he 
had devoted his life, scarcely begun. The living 
voice can express truth and emotion no more ! But 
being dead, thou shalt yet speak, my brother, from 
the silent page, and reaUze, it may be, the prayer of 
thy youth, thy manhood, and of thy latest days, 
^' to be useful for a little season in the world.'' 

Samuel Horatio Stearns was born at Bedford, 
Mass., September 12th, 1801. He was the eldest 
son and second child that survived infancy, of Rev. 
Samuel Stearns, who was for more than thirty-nine 
years pastor of the church in that place. His grand- 
parents were Rev. Josiah Stearns, of Epping, N. H., 
and Rev. Jonathan French, of Andover, Mass. 

He descended from Isaac Stearns of Watertown, 
who came from England in the Arabella with Gov. 
Winthrop, in 1630, and who is designated by 
Farmer as the common ancestor of the Stearns's in 
New England. Among his collateral puritan an- 
cestors were Gov. Thomas Dudly, a *^ principal 
founder of the church and town of Cambridge ; " 
Rev. John Woodbridge, first minister of Andover, 
who married a daughter of Gov. Dudly; Thomas 
Ruggles, of Roxbury, who came from Nasing, Essex 
Co. Eng., 1637, whose children, says the Apostle 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 6 

Eliot, "were children of a godly father;" and 
Capt. Edward Johnson, "a principal founder of the 
town and church of Woburn," and author of the 
History of New England, entitled, ^' Wonder-work- 
ing Providence of Zion's Saviour in New England." 
On the maternal side Avere John French, Dorchester, 
1639 ; and John Alden, Plymouth, 1620, said to be 
the first person who leaped from the Mayflower upon 
the Plymouth Rock. 

Among his ancestors, in subsequent generations, 
were Rev. John Williams, minister of Deerfield, 
captured by the Indians with all his family, Feb. 
28, 1704 ; Rev. Samuel Whiting, first minister of 
Billerica ; Rev. Samuel Ruggles, the second minister 
of Billerica. These, with the subject of our memoir 
and his father and grandfathers, were graduates of 
Harvard University. On the maternal side Ephraim 
Thayer of Braintree, said by Farmer, in 1829, to 
be the ancestor of between two thousand and three 
thousand descendants. 

It is remarkable also that all his ancestors, 
from the settlement of the country, so far as is 
known, were professors of religion and members 
of the Evangelical Congregational churches of New 
England. 

Samuel was constitutionally feeble, and on this 
account was an object of parental solicitude from his 
cradle to his tomb. In boyhood, however, when 
shielded from exposures, and cherished by a mother's 
love, though subject to frequent and sudden ill- 
nesses, he enjoyed for the most part comfortable 
health. 



4 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

At this period, though marked by gravity and 
thoLightfnlness, he was playful and very happy. 
While he had no sympathy with coarse merriment 
and profaneness, he engaged in the studies adapted 
to his years, and in those sports which were allow- 
ed, with all his soul. ^^ The first ten years of my 
life," he used to say, ^'were perfectly blissful." 

Between the age of ten and fifteen, he spent most 
of the time at home, under the immediate care and 
instruction of his parents. At this period, his 
mother, always the companion, rather than the 
governess of her children, spared no pains to inspire 
his young heart with just and honorable emotioris, 
— to elevate his mind above the seductive influence 
of evil companions, — to fill his head with argu- 
ments and pithy answers, for those, by whom the 
principles in which he was educated might be as- 
sailed, — and, without seeming to do it, to give him 
that thirst for knowledge and for elevating pursuits, 
on which all eminence, that is worthy of the name, 
so much depends. These attentions he repaid by 
uniform confidence, obedience, respect, afi'ection and 
general improvement. 

At this age he was taught by easy, but regular 
tasks, alternating his studies, to labor upon the soil 
and direct the aff'airs of a farm ; it being a favorite 
doctrine of his father's, that, as common sense is not 
often gathered from books alone, ^^no boy is fit for 
college, till he knows how to work." Here also, 
in the performance of these tasks, he acquired those 
habits of faithfulness and thoroughness, which were 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 5 

ever after among the prominent features of his 
character. He used to say, that the manner in 
which he was taught by his father '* to weed the 
garden," had influenced him, in all his studies in 
after life. The maxim was, '^a thing once well 
done is twice done," and the rule was, ^' leave no 
weed, my son, as big as a pin,^^ The importance 
of this direction was, usually, in the course of the 
season, demonstrated. The work, if faithfully per- 
formed in early summer, was accomplished, very 
nearly, for the year. 

When about fourteen years old, Samuel began to 
manifest a growing desire to obtain a liberal educa- 
tion, and devote himself to the duties of professional 
life. He accordingl y commenced the study of Latin, 
under the direction of his father, whose reiterated 
precept, go thorough, enforced as it was by his own 
example in every thing, laid the foundation of future 
classical success. 

What his religious feelings at this time were, we 
have no definite knowledge. But his respect for the 
Sabbath, his diligent study of the Bible, and his uni- 
form seriousness, -— together with a wish, earnestly 
expressed, to consecrate his life to the Christian min- 
istry, induce the belief, that he was not far from the 
kingdom of heaven. 

In December, 1816, being a little more than fif- 
teen years of age, he entered Phillips Academy, in 
Andover. Under the genial influences of that insti- 
tution, which, for its exalted morality and piety, as 

well as for its thoroughness in the first principles of 
1# 



b LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

classical knowledge, is perhaps surpassed by no 
other in the United States, the seeds of religion 
which had been sown in childhood, and had begun 
to germinate at home, sprung up to view. He 
thought deeply upon his spiritual condition, and felt 
himself a lost sinner in the sight of God. After 
much heart-searching and self-humiliation, with in- 
tervals of despondency, he expressed his feelings, 
without reserve, to some confidential Christian 
friends, who, by directing his mind to the charac- 
teristics of experimental piety, inspired him with a 
trembling confidence that his sins were forgiven. 

Being encouraged by his parents, who had long 
watched and scrutinized his character, and who 
thought that those lambs of the flock which bear 
the good Shepherd's mark are safest in the fold, 
Samuel, now in his sixteenth year, made a public 
profession of his faith in Christ, at Bedford, and 
was received a member, in full communion, of the 
church in that place, June 1st, 1817. 

It was a day of great interest both to the parent 
and the child, and to all who witnessed the scene. 
This son, from the earliest dawn of his life, had 
been consecrated to the service of Christ and the 
church, in the ministry. He had been publicly 
baptized into the name of the Father, and of the 
Son, and of the Holy Ghost. He was considered 
by his parents as one marked for the Lord. This, 
too, was the first of a large family, set apart by 
public and by private covenants for God, whom the 
Saviour seemed manifestly to own. This, then, 



REV. SAMUEL H, STEARNS. / 

appeared to them as a voice from heaven, saying, 
" Thy prayer is heard ; " — an occasion of that 
interest which none but Christian parents can fully 
imderstand. 

Never will the surviving children of that family 
forget the emotions which swelled their hearts, as 
this brother stood forth in the congregation, a frail 
child, almost overpowered by the scene, and, *^ in 
the presence of God, the holy angels, and of that 
assembly," made his everlasting covenant with 
Heaven. Never will they forget the impression 
produced on their minds, by a few words of direct 
address from the father to the son, near the close of 
his discourse that afternoon. 

^^ Some of you are coming forward in early life, 
much younger than has been usual in this place, 
younger than any one for more than twenty years 
past, probably younger than any one for a much 
longer period. While I tremble through fear of the 
event, in view of the numerous and powerful temp- 
tations to which I know your youthful age will 
expose you, from gratitude to God, by whose grace 
I charitably hope you have been drawn to Christ 
while thus young, I am constrained to say, I view 
this among the happiest days of my life, — far more 
so than to have seen you an heir to the wealth of 
the Indies, or the splendor of an earthly crown. O 
my son, let God have the empire of your heart, for 
it is his just due. Let Christ have the devotion and 
service of your life, for he it is who died for you, 
and by whose grace alone your life is worth pos- 



8 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

sessing. May the Spirit of God enlighten and 
sanctify and keep you, — and may you obtain favor 
of the Lord to be faithful and to glorify him, 
with that holiness which becometh his children for 
ever ! " 

When the solemnities were over, Samuel returned 
home to his private apartment, overwhelmed and 
bowed down with emotion. From this period, he 
sustained an unblemished and uniform Christian 
character, and is believed, amidst all the temptations 
of after life, to have '' walked worthy the vocation 
wherewith he was called." 

June 19th, 1817, he thus writes to his parents, 
from Andover: ^^I did fondly hope to hear that the 
Spirit of the Lord had overspread the town, and 
that many hardened and stupid sinners had been 
led to cry out, in the language of the publican — 
and that many had escaped from the awful preci- 
pice on which they stood, and fled to the ark of 
safety for refuge. But nothing of this reaches my 
ears, and I fear that the sun which appeared to be 
rising so pleasantly upon you has become envel- 
oped in a cloud. If this be indeed the case, O that 
it might again break forth, with more lustre than 
ever ! 

^' Please give my love to all my brothers and sis- 
ters, and tell them from me, that heaven is worth 
obtaining, — eternal happiness is worth striving for, 
and now is the golden season." 

Sept. 12th, 1817, he writes: ^'This day termi- 
nates the sixteenth year of my life. Much, very 



RET. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. V 

much do I owe to that fostering hand, and that 
parental care, which have watched over me, often 
with anxious days and sleepless nights, and been 
instrumental in preserving my life. When I review 
my past years, and consider the many dangers from 
which I have been preserved, even from infancy, 
well may I exclaim, Wherefore have I been con- 
tinued in the world so long ? But alas ! these years 
are gone, like a ^ tale that is told.' How much 
longer I have to remain in the flesh, through what 
troubles and trials to pass, and for what purpose, 
God alone can tell. O, that I may so spend the 
remainder of my days, that if death comes sooner 
or later, I may meet it with composure, and be 
transported to that world where sin and sorrow 
never come." 

Jan. 7th, 1819, he writes to his eldest sister, who 
was not supposed at that time to possess the conso- 
lations of religion, but who has since, after many 
years of humility in the church of Christ, been 
gathered, long before this brother, in the joy of 
faith, to her rest in heaven : 

" My dear Sister, 

'^ I recollect when I was at home in vacation, 
speaking of your birth-day, you said that on that 
day I must write you a letter. It is, therefore, in 
compliance with your request, that I embrace the 
present opportunity to address you, in a marmer 
which I hope will be for j'-our good, and our mutual 
benefit. And, my sister, let me open my mind 



10 



LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 



freely to you on that most important of all subjects, 
the great end for which we live. Well does it be- 
come you, at such a period as this, especially, to 
look back on your past life, to examine yourself, 
and consider wherefore it is that you live. This 
day completes the nineteenth year of your exist- 
ence. The Lord has dealt bountifully with you. 
He has given you life. He has placed you in a 
Christian land. He has given you pious parents to 
instruct you, to pray with and for you, to nourish 
and comfort you, from the cradle to the present 
time. Here, then, you may well exclaim, Bless the 
Lord, O my soul ! 

^'But, dear sister, remember you were placed here 
for some great end ; you are placed on probation for 
eternity. When a few more suns shall have risen 
and set, when a few more revolving years shall 
have passed away, you must appear before your 
Judge, to receive a reward, according to your deeds, 
whether they be good or evil. 

*' Dear sister, let me seriously and affectionately 
put this question. Are you prepared for this great 
event ? Have you made your peace with God ? Do 
you feel peace and joy in believing ? If so, happy 
are you, — God is your portion, Christ is your Re- 
deemer, and heaven with all its glory shall be yours, 
and yours for ever. But if, on the other hand, you 
have no good hope that you have been *born again,' 
with trembling and heartfelt solicitude, I beseech 
you consider, ere it be too late ! How long, my 
sister, will you ^ halt between two opinions ? ' If 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 11 

religion be all-important, as I have no doubt your 
understanding says it is, why not embrace it now 1 
I venture to say, now is the very best time, perhaps 
the only time. Religion is not calculated to make 
men gloomy, to make their comforts less. No, my 
sister, it sweetens the bitter cup, and heightens all 
our joys. Do then consider of these things ; em- 
brace the Saviour to-day, even while he is offered, 
and he will receive you. O what holy joy would it 
enkindle in our dear parents' bosoms, could they feel 
that you were devoted to God ! Give yourself 
away to him, boldly profess his name before a sinful 
world, and walk in his ordinances blameless. Then 
when you shall have done with all things here 
below, you shall be received to join the angelic host, 
in songs of praise for ever. That this may be the 
happy case with you and me, and all our dear 
friends, is the daily prayer of 

*' Your affectionate brother, 

^* Samuel H. Stearns." 



12 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 



CHAPTER II. 



HIS COLLEGE LIFE. 






In the autumn of 1819, Mr. Stearns was admitted 
to the freshman class, in Harvard University. The 
choice of a college had been a subject of long and 
anxious solicitude, both to the parents and the son. 
Their predilections were all in favor of Harvard, but 
many circumstances led them to hesitate, and finally 
to decide with trembling. This decision, made as 
it was in view of the character of the individual, the 
past history of Harvard, and its present preeminent 
advantages, neither of them had occasion afterward, 
it is thought, for a moment to regret. 

At this time, there was nothing very remarkable, 
certainly nothing precocious, in the intellectual 
development of the young student. He was diffi- 
dent and unambitious, but moderately diligent and 
faithful to his tasks. He would have been satisfied 
with a slow but certain progress, had it not been 
for the fact, which now appeared full in his view, 
that his very existence, as a student at the univer- 
sity, must depend upon superior scholarship. His 
father's circumstances were at this time so much 
straitened, that, notwithstanding important aid from 
the American Education Society, the expenses of 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 13 

college life could not be sustained. He must either 
quit his post and sacrifice his prospects, or obtain 
assistance from the funds of the university. But in 
distributing the funds appropriated to indigent stu- 
dents, respect is had, very properly, to the attain- 
ments of the individual, as well as to his needs. 
It is not strange, therefore, that a young student, 
invited by a natural love of study, and urged on by 
the necessities of the case, but inexperienced as to 
the consequences of incessant application, should 
be tempted to overdo, or that the mind, stimulated 
by its own efforts, and inspired by unexpected suc- 
cess, should continue to press forward, till the deli- 
cate fabric which sheltered it was worn out and 
broken down. This was literally the case, in the 
present instance. Exercise was thought unimpor- 
tant, and relaxation an unnecessary indulgence. 
Hours of sleep were trespassed upon, — and the 
excited mind, looking onward and upward, was 
allowed no rest. The cheek grew deadly pale, as 
it hung, all day long and late in the evening, over 
its desk. But, cheered with the thought, that filial 
duty and the glory of God required this exertion, 
the altered hue of the countenance was unheeded, 
till within sight of the goal, exhausted nature crip- 
pled and fell. 

Early in the spring of 1821, in his junior year, 
Mr. Stearns was obliged to leave college for the 
recovery of his health. For several weeks he con- 
tinued to fail, and to exhibit threatening symptoms 
of decline. During all the summer, parental love 

VOL. I. 2 



14 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

watched over his emaciated frame and desponding 
spirits, with ceaseless anxiety. But, through the 
unexpected blessing of God, he so far recovered from 
his illness, that in the coming autumn he ventured 
to return to the university. 

Oct. 1, 1821, he thus writes to his father : ^^ 1 

called Saturday afternoon on Professor H , and 

gave him your letter. He said he should like some 
time to examine me a little in logic, — said, also, 
that I cannot maintain my former standing as a 
scholar, without making up the studies in his depart- 
ment, and also the mathematics, and advised me by 
no means to take a school next winter. I told him 
I thought it necessary^ and made known to him 
more fully my circumstances. An insupportable 
burden is upon me. My health is extremely slen- 
der, — a very little extraordinary exertion produces 
such a pain in my side and chest, and such a flutter- 
ing of the heart; as unfits me for any duty. To 
keep along in my present state, is a great undertak- 
ing, without the disadvantages of absence a whole 
term, and the necessity of making up lost time. It 
seems, then, that 1 must give up my present class 
entirely, or lose my college standing and college 
assistance, or else drag along with all this accumu- 
lated weight, and most probably sink in the efi'ort. 
Either of these is a disappointment, which nothing 
but absolute necessity would induce me to sufi'er. 
I am indeed ^come to Marah,' and long for the tree 
which shall sweeten its bitter waters. What God 
designs for me, he only can tell, — doubtless it will 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 15 

be accomplished. But to lose my health, lose my 
standing and support, my honors and spirits, is so 
incompatible with my former prospects and high 
expectations, that I cannot endure it. Sometimes 
my feelings prompt me to risk the consequences, — 
do with my might, till the power of doing is gone, 
and then submit. But reason bids me forbear, and 
yet the voice of duty speaks to me, ^ that I go for- 
ward,^ O, for wisdom to direct ! " 

Arrangements were made, whereby the invalid 
might avoid the exhausting labors of school-teaching 
that winter. The coming vacation, therefore, was 
devoted to the redeeming of lost time. This was 
the only year of his college life, which was not 
interrupted, by many weeks' absence, in an employ- 
ment which is quite as trying to the powers of a 
delicate constitution, as any, perhaps, they are called 
to sustain. To the student who is already worn 
down with excessive exertion, and needs relaxation, 
instead of taking upon himself an increased burden, 
it is almost suicidal. 

Whether it is wise, for an undergraduate in col- 
lege to turn aside from his appropriate duties, several 
weeks yearly, for the small gains and severe labors 
of a country school, may be seriously doubted. 
Necessity sometimes demands the interruption. But 
the disadvantages to a student, whose class is going 
forward in his absence, is often incalculable. His 
habits of study are disturbed ; his purposes of emi- 
nence are often unsettled. He resumes his tasks 
with pain, and, as he stands among his companions. 



16 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

in conscious mortification that he has been distanced 
by them all, he either falters with discouragement, 
or resolves to rush forward, and, at any sacrifice, to 
redeem his lost time. But that time cannot be 
redeemed. It is lost, and to most it is lost irre- 
coverably. 

In the present instance, life, perhaps, was depend- 
ing upon a relief from the accustomed interruption. 
This relief gave encouragement and a spring to the 
mind, and enabled it to accomplish the tasks which 
had been accumulating through the season. Still, 
Mr, Stearns was an invalid student, borne on by the 
current of his own feelings, by the necessities of his 
circumstances, and by a strong sense of duty to the 
hazard of life. 

March 1, 1822, he writes: ^^I have this term 
taken every precaution and used every means to 
preserve my health. I have been very attentive to 
diet and exercise. But after all, as spring returns, I 
find myself losing ground. If it were freshman or 
sophomore year, I should be quite unable to prepare 
myself in the exercises, and go through with the 
duties of college life. At present, the studies are 
easy and the lectures interesting, but I am not able 
to read and improve my mind as I wish. Govern- 
ment seem ready to make every allowance and 
grant every indulgence, but I fear I shall weary out 
their patience. 

*^ In all this afiiiction, I console myself with the 
idea, that I have pursued the course of life marked 
out by Providence, and if disappointed here, I seek 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 17 

to resign myself cheerfully to his will. Having 
repeatedly examined, and sought to know the true 
state of my mind, I am led to think, that my pre- 
vailing desire is to know what is duty, and follow 
where it leads, regardless of consequences." 

Possibly the maxim, ^^ follow where duty leads, 
regardless of consequences,^^ so good in itself, but so 
liable to miapplication, may have contributed to 
this impaired health and consequent suffering. He 
did not then perhaps consider, what he in after life 
so fully understood, that known or expected conse- 
quences must often influence our decisions of duty. 
That constancy and intenseness of application, 
which is right for those who have reason to think 
that they can endure it, may be wrong in others, 
who are certain or fearful that such exertion will be 
to the permanent injury of health. 

Mr. Stearns, in all his trials, possessed the spirit 
of Christian resignation, and sustained his broken 
constitution with the belief, that all the providences 
of God were wisely ordered, and would work for 
the best. Still, his heart would sink at times in 
despondency ; and he found it difficult to gird him- 
self up to those employments in which he had been 
so often disappointed. 

His feelings are thus expressed to a brother who 
was engaged in the preparatory studies of college, at 
Phillips Academy : 

*' You have one inestimable blessing that I never 
knew, and now know less than ever, — sound and 

vigorous health. I rejoice with you, that you can 

2# 



18 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

ply your books and urge your studies, without those 
constant pains which tell me every moment, 'not so 
fast/ and without that extreme debility which limits 
my exertions and stands an insurmountable barrier 
against every noble undertaking." 

Although Mr. Stearns's spirits were clouded, and 
his heart saddened by ill health, he was not gener- 
ally so despondent as some of these extracts seem 
to indicate. His humor was naturally playful, — 
and his trust in Providence threw a pleasing light 
upon his clouds. Affliction enlivened his sympa- 
thies, deepened his religious feelings, and increased 
his anxieties for the spiritual welfare of his friends, 
but did not render him permanently sad. 

The following letter is a specimen of his familiar 
correspondence, and shows how naturally his heart 
used to rise from the sprightliness of the domestic 
circle, to themes of loftier interest : 

" Bedford, March 18th, 1823. 
*' Brother , 

*^I came home on Saturday last to visit my 
friends. In casting a look upon them all, I cannot 
but notice the absence of one, whom I hold dear as 
my own soul, and recollect with all the interesting 
associations of boyish sport and youthful pastime. 
Amidst the social pleasures of a father's family, I 
feel a void which all of these cannot fill. Believe 
me, I am urged by the impulse of affection to seek 
silent converse, even amid the buz and chat of our 
family circle, which you can more easily conceive 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 19 

than I describe. Just at this moment, they have 
assailed me with their united forces, and filled my 
ears with ward-shot^ from every quarter. Aunt 

P made signal, and C gave the word of 

command. All was confusion, — but the battle is 
almost hushed again, and I resume my work. To 
give you a little sketch of my situation, — mother 
dignifies the maternal chair, and seems, by her look 
and words, to possess a station equally honorable 
and far more happy, than that of Elizabeth, with 
the throne of England for her seat, instead of a 
rocking-chair, — the precarious sceptre of a proud 
nation, instead oi knitting-work^ — announcing law 
to a restless and ambitious people, instead of im- 
parting advice and giving a tone to the innocent 
-merriment of her own dear children. But no more 

prosing. A and C are ... . and cracking 

jokes, and, with sparkling eyes, talking of beaux. 

Aunt R maintains her gravity, and seems to 

indulge in speculation upon the various scenes. 

Aunt P occupies the centre of the circle on my 

right, and now resting from her work, leans on my 
knee ; — now and then, an anecdote from her adds 
to our entertainment, — and, to be sure, I can hardly 

help laughing myself, occasionally. E sits 

next, very sedate ; M fills the arm-chair in the 

corner, and every few minutes expresses a wonder 
what I am writing about. But to tell you all that 
is said is too great a task, — and the result would 
be like 3,niince-pie, — some plums, some apple, some 
short crust, — some sweet, little meat, and the 



20 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

whole, though very pleasing to the taste for the 
moment, not permanently wholesome. 

^' I heartily wish I had something of more impor- 
tance to relate. But in matters of real seriousness, 
of vital interest, I am wholly at a loss. Notwith- 
standing the exertions of a few Christians, and espe- 
cially of our dear father, whose labors are more and 
more abundant, and whose zeal is more and more 
ardent, all here is cold, dull and dreary as the house 
of death. Professing Christians have apparently too 
little of the spirit of their Master. O, my brother, 
I must believe that Christians are awfully guilty in 
this respect. God has pledged his word that he will 
answer fervent, importunate prayer. Yes, if we 
could but pray in sincerity, with right affections 
and with unwavering faith, this house might become 
a Bethel, and this town ^ a dwelling-place of right- 
eousness.' Pray then, for us, — pray for ^ne, and 
pray for our college, — our friends and the world. 
God will hear prayer." 

His anxiety for the spiritual welfare of his sisters, 
brothers, and other friends, was always apparent ; 
and a confidence in prayer, for the conversion of his 
fellow-beings, was characteristic of his early, as well 
as his maturer piety. 

April 1, 1823, he writes from Harvard University: 

*' Your report from N is truly reviving ; would 

to God we might hear a similar one from our own 
dear family. I was at home a short time since and 
spent several days. The most encouraging religious 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 21 

symptom was the persevering and increased engag- 
edness of our inestimable parents. The family 
exercises of Saturday and Sabbath evenings were 
solemn and dehghtful. The return of these seasons 
has ever since brought a return of similar feelings. 
O, my brother, we do not sufficiently appreciate the 
worth of pious parents, — the benefit of their pray- 
ers; — probably it is in a great measure in answer 
to them, that we receive the blessings we enjoy, — 
and especially the unspeakable blessing of peace 
with God, if indeed we have true peace. 

*^I have 'great heaviness for my brethren and 
Icindred according to the flesh.' I sometimes feel 
that I would make any sacrifice, and exert my feeble 
powers to the utmost in their behalf, to warn them 
to 'flee from the wrath to come,' and to throw them- 
selves, without reserve, into the arms of Christ, who 
is waiting 7iow to receive them. But they have 
knowledge of their duty and of their present condi- 
tion, — they have call upon call, 'line upon line, 
and precept upon precept.' We may avail most in 
prayer for them, — and thus I unburthen my heart. 
I can say to yow, that I have felt of late uncommon 
interest at the throne of grace^on their behalf. I do 
believe that the God of grace is about to appear for 
them. I believe with trembling, — Lord, help thou 
my unbelief! Do pray for them, — and pray for a 
blessing on all your exertions, — pray for me, — God 
will hear prayer ; — pray for us. Our sacred motto, 
'Christo et Ecclesia3,' will erelong wave on our 
banner, in holy triumph over this birth-place of our 



22 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

fathers, and gladden the hearts of their praying 
sons." 

Mr. Stearns felt a deep interest in Harvard College, 
as the concluding sentence of the extract just given 
indicates. He venerated, he loved, that institution 
with filial affection. Painfully sensible of what he 
conceived to be its errors in Christian doctrine, he 
could not fail to appreciate its thorough course of 
literary and scientific studies, its numerous and 
superior lectures, its large and invaluable library, its 
intellectual and classic atmosphere, and, opinion to 
the contrary notwithstanding, its general standard 
of morality, which, it is thought, would suffer much 
less in comparison with the other colleges of New 
England, than is sometimes imagined. He looked 
upon it as the noble offspring of the Pilgrims, conse- 
crated by many prayers to the interests of the 
Redeemer's kingdom, and designed by God to afford 
important aid in accomplishing the destinies of the 
New World, and, sooner, or later, in rolling the wave 
of salvation, by a crucified Saviour, over the Old. 

July I4th, 1823, just before he graduated, he 
writes to a brother, who at that moment was in great 
doubt as to the choice of a college, but afterwards 
entered Harvard : '' O, how pleasant it would be, if I 

might indulge the hope that was coming 

here to take my place, with my books, furniture and 
every little article of convenience, &c. How much 
more pleasure I should take in visiting this seat of 
learning, the first-born of our enlightened and pious 
forefathers, — the mother of almost all their worthy 



REV, SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 23 

posterity, — the nursery of our own fathers^ — the 
object of their kindest regard, — of their warmest 
gratitude, — of their highest veneration, — of their 
most fervent, importunate and acceptable prayers. 
Yes, I can remember when our venerable and pious 
grandparent, in his daily devotions, poured forth the 
most earnest supplications in behalf of the ' univer- 
sity in our vicinity, founded by the early Pilgrims, 
and consecrated to the American church.' I will 
only add, God bless the sons of Harvard, and pre- 
serve our alma mater from the open attacks of ene- 
mies, — the secret treachery of hypocritical friends, 
and from the baleful influence of every wrong prin- 
ciple to be found in her own heart." 

Mr. Stearns was much tried while a member of 
college, as to the duties which he owed, relatively^ 
to himself, to his fellow-students, and to the officers 
of the institution. According to sentiments of honor 
which prevail in every generous breast, he despised 
the meanness of those who seek preferment, by the 
wilful exposure of another's faults. At the same 
time, neither his self-respect nor his principles of 
religion would allow him to shield himself or his 
friends, by the greater meanness of equivocation and 
untruth. The maxim of conduct which he chose 
was, never to stoop, in any emergency, to falsehood, 
but always to save the character of his associates, 
when he could do it, without contravening his con 
science. He reverenced, in students as well as in 
citizens, that manly independence which respects 
itself as a being accountable chiefly to God, but he 



24 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

looked upon the bravadoes of assumed consequence, 
and the miserable ambition of notoriety in wicked- 
ness as beneath his contempt. It was a principle 
with him, while a member of the university, that a 
college rebellion is never wise or right. If the laws 
of an institution, or the executors of those laws, he 
argued, become so oppressive that I can no longer 
submit to them, let me, honorably, withdraw from 
their authority, and seek to correct abuses and redress 
grievances, by such means as the members of a free 
community in common enjoy. But let me not, 
recklessly, resist ^' the powers that be," or, without 
counting the cost, commence a controversy, in which 
order and discipline must triumph, and discomfiture 
and mortification to myself certainly ensue. 

Though a member of the university, at a time of 
unusual commotion, he passed its ordeal without 
censure; and without injury to his morals or to his 
Christian character. He was known as a professor 
of religion, a full believer in the doctrines of the 
cross; — as such his sentiments were treated with 
delicacy, and his habits of devotion and rigid adhe- 
rence to principle, with respect. 

Mr. Stearns was graduated at Harvard College in 
August, 1823. The part assigned him, in the exer- 
cises of commencement, and which he performed, 
was the salutatory addresses in Latin. On taking 
his second degree, three years after, he delivered 
the m£tster^s valedictory oration in Latin. 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS, 25 



CHAPTER III. 

HIS CONNECTION WITH PHILLIPS ACADEMY, AS AN INSTRUCTER — 
EFFORTS TO REGAIN AND CONFIRM HEALTH BY MANUAL LABOR 
— PROFESSIONAL STUDIES. 

After leaving college, Mr. Stearns spent a few- 
weeks in recruiting his exhausted powers, and then 
took a situation, as an instructer in Phillips Acad- 
emy, in Andover. In this employment he continued, 
wMth some interruption, till the spring of 1825. But 
the severe, though pleasing duties of his station, 
had so far consumed his physical energies, that he 
was, decidedly, unfit to enter upon his professional 
studies. A portentous cloud hung over his prospects 
of usefulness. He had devoted himself to the ser- 
vice of Christ, in the Gospel ministry. He had 
been steadily looking forward to this work, from 
early childhood. His studies had been chosen, his 
observations made, and his habits of thought formed, 
in reference to it. Nor could he consider it his duty 
to relinquish all hope of attaining a profession whose 
sacred employment seemed to him as desirable as 
hfe, without an effort to repair his broken constitu- 
tion. Under these circumstances, he determined to 
spend the coming season in those rural occupations 
which had been among the delights, as well as ap- 

VOL. I. • 3 



26 



LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 



pointed tasks of his childhood. His plan was to 
commence his course of physical discipline with 
the opening of spring, — to begin very moderately^ 
and by continued practice, acquire strength for 
effective labor. Many of his friends were doubtful 
as to the success of this project. Still, as he was 
encouraged to it by distinguished physicians, and 
as his own mclinations were strong in its favor, 
they did not advise decidedly against the experi- 
ment. His own views, on the subject, were thus 
given : 

** This course seems to me the only probable 
means Providence is affording me of restoring that 
comfortable degree of health, of which I have long 
been deprived, but once enjoyed, and which, with 
the blessing of my heavenly Father, I hope again 
to enjoy, and improve to his glory. Since my health 
first broke down, — now almost four years, — such 
an opportmiity as the present has not been afforded. 
When I shall once have commenced the study of 
my profession at a public institution, my situation 
will be much like that at college. It will be almost 
as difficult to break off, and the loss, of course, as 
much to be deprecated. My friends premonish me 
that my plan demands a great deal of fortitude and 
resolution. Time must prove, whether or not I can 
boast ^ a quantum sufficit.' Besides all this, I antici- 
pate many misgivings, in my own mind, and per- 
chance, in my lowly moods, occasional repentance 
for the course I pursue. Yet, strange as it may 
seem, to my mind, the path is comparatively clear 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 27 

and plain, — ^duty calls, — 't is mine to obey.' I 
have taken my resolution. I wish to be decided, 
and feel so ; a fickle disposition is always disrepu- 
table, and utterly destructive of one's usefulness." 

According to this plan, the spring, summer, and 
autumn of 1825 were spent at Bedford. By daily 
physical labor, alternated with studies of a tasteful 
and pleasing kind, this effort to regain health was 
partially successful. The spirits recovered something 
of their buoyancy, and the mind, disburthened of 
its anxieties, and left to its own free musings, gained 
as much, perhaps, by untrammelled and unforced 
movements, as, under all the circumstances, it would 
have done by the severest and most formal appli- 
cation. 

In December of 1825, Mr. Stearns joined the junior 
class, in the theological seminary, at Andover. 

Having been cradled and educated in the midst 
of clerical society, and having been in the habit of 
investigating theological subjects, under the super- 
intendence of his father, from early youth, his time 
was now very much at his command. The pre- 
scribed duties of the seminary were faithfully and 
formally attended to, as far as health would allow ; 
but, beyond this, opportunity was afforded for gen- 
eral reading, and for patient and thorough examina- 
tion of the more important passages of Scripture 
and principles of religion. He followed the method 
of investigation which was best adapted to his own 
mind. He rarely read through a continuous trea- 
tise ; he studied subjects, not books. Instead of 



28 



LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 



wandering abroad in the wilderness of theological 
and philosophical systems, he fixed his attention 
upon particular points, and, while he possessed him- 
self of the knowledge which the learned had gath- 
ered round them, his principal dependence, in the 
discovery of truth, was upon his own steadfast and 
long continued meditations. In these, he was often 
absorbed for many days together, — making little 
use of books, except for occasional reference in 
matters of fact. And though his mind was some- 
times oppressed by the perplexities of a subject, he 
would rarely give over, till he thought he could 
thread its intricate paths, or discover, that to man, 
in his present state, they were impervious. The 
doctrine of divine purposes took hold of his atten- 
tion, at one time, with exclusive and unrelaxing 
power. For several months, its mysteries hung like 
a dark cloud around him, and for a little season, it 
was only by faith, that he could see the smile of 
paternal love shining through. '^ These are sub- 
jects," he says, ^' which try men's souls : " 

" we reason high 



Of Providence and fate, will, foreknowledge : 
Fixed fate, free will, foreknowledge absolute, 
And find no end, in wandering mazes lost.'^ 

*' Never has my mind been so severely tried. But 
I have confidence in study and divine help, that I 
shall see out. Indeed, I think that I can discover 
the light; though it shines only at a distance, and 
invites me out of this dark, bewildering swamp. I 
believe the result of ray inquiries, if successful, 



EEV. SAM-UEL H. STEARNS. 29 

will be to know our ignorance, necessary igno- 
rance,^^ 

Other subjects in their turn occupied his atten- 
tion, with similar exclusiveness. When his predi- 
lections for any sentiment were peculiarly strong, he 
kept his judgment balanced, by the more thorough 
consideration of objections, and by prayer. 

During these three happy years of professional 
preparation, he had made no ordinary attainments 
in the science and in the belles-lettres of theology. 
On prominent doctrinal principles, his opinions had 
become clear and well established. He had formed 
and sketched for himself an ideal of the Christian 
minister, pastor, and man. He had spent much 
time in determining the mode of address which be- 
comes the pulpit, and the more private relations of 
the sacred office ; and was fully possessed with the 
sentiment, that the preacher's business is to adapt 
and impress truth. He considered, therefore, that 
next to discriminating views of doctrine and duty, 
sacred rhetoric, using that term in its largest sense, 
is a study of principal importance, in preparation for 
the ministry. The mode of unfolding and exhib- 
iting God's truth was, consequently, a favorite and 
prominent subject of his studies. 

Being now well furnished, in the opinion of 

others, if not in his own, for his great work, an 

inquiry of anxious interest was presented to his 

mind. This is an age of Christian benevolence ; 

the children of God are expected to withhold no 

sacrifice of personal feeling from the cause of their 
3# 



30 



LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 



Master. Educated for the sacred profession, they 
must choose their field of labor, with no reference 
to worldly advantage. The question is not, where 
can I secure to myself indulgence from labor, lite- 
rary leisure, cultivated society, and a prospect of 
personal distinction ; but where can I best subserve 
the interests of the Redeemer's kingdom ? In North 
America, or in Japan ? Among the graves of my 
fathers, or in the distant islands of the Pacific seas ! 
This question comes distinctly before the mind of 
every young clergyman whose heart is, in any re- 
spect, worthy of the sacred profession, and demands 
a decided, a disinterested answer. 

This subject, Mr. Stearns was now urged, by the 
impulses of his own soul, to investigate. One 
would suppose, that, in a case like the present, there 
could be little difficulty in determining the path of 
duty. On the one hand, his physical disabilities 
were an insuperable objection to his becoming a 
missionary; — on the other, his habits, his tastes, 
his education, his very nature, fitted him to be 
chiefly useful among the cultivated of his own 
countrymen. But the question, in his mind, could 
not be so easily settled, 

'^ There is this year," he writes to his parents, 
"an unusual call for missionaries, domestic and for- 
eign. The American Board wish to employ as 
many as twenty, in addition to those now in their 
service. The unexampled liberality of laymen, 
during this year, calls for corresponding efforts on 
the part of clergymen. The Board say, we must 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 31 

enlarge our operations, and send out more mission- 
aries. They intend to establish at least two or three 
new stations, and to reinforce the old ones. I be- 
lieve their statements and plans are given, in gen- 
eral, in the Missionary Herald. But the Home 
Missionary Society are still louder in their calls. 
They would be glad to employ a hundred addi- 
tional laborers, and say they should find no diffi- 
culty in obtaining the means, if they could get the 
men. They would send some to the South, but 
most to the West : — to Ohio, — and to important 
stations in other States, — to St. Louis, in Missouri, 
to Natchez, and to New Orleans. They are about 
to establish a printing office in St. Louis, and a 
religious newspaper. Mr. B — — , one of my class- 
mates, will probably take the editorial charge of it. 

Rev. Mr. , of New York, was here last week, 

as an agent for the Society, and plead hard for mis- 
sionaries. Western missions, in a political point of 
view, as well as moral and religious, are most im- 
portant. If that western country is not Christian- 
ized soon, where will be the boasted liberty which 
Puritans purchased with their prayers, their tears, 
and their blood ! Now, we have but nineteen or 
twenty men in our class, to supply this great de- 
mand. We talk now, as if about one-third of these 
would go on foreign missions, and one-third, or 
more, on domestic, ^. e., western missions. But the 
most important question for me is, what is my 
duty? I have talked with Dr. Porter about it, and 
he gave me no explicit advice, but said, that he 



32 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

thought I could not and ought not to make up my 
mind just yet either way, and referred me to you. 
Will you and mother have the goodness to think on 
the subject, and be ready to give me your opinions, 
when I come home, with your reasons 1 Where 
can I do most good, on the whole 1 Meanwhile, 
let the promise, ' If any man lack wisdom,' &c., 
sustain us." 

The following resolutions, written just before he 
left the seminary, have been found among his loose 
papers, since his decease : 

^^ I wholly renounce ambition and self-indulgence, 
as motives of action. 

^^ I must be absolutely and entirely devoted to 
God, in heart and life : and live not unto myself, 
but unto him who loved me, and died for me. 

'^ I must glorify God, in the improvement of my 
own character, and in doing good to mankind. 

*^ I will follow my own taste and genius, so far as 
circumstances allow ; and trust in God that his 
providence will guide me. ^ Trust in the Lord,' 
&c. ^ Be careful for nothing.' 

^' I will never intrude myself upon the public, or 
take a conspicuous part, without good and important 
reasons ; nor will I shrink from the exposure when 
duty calls, but generously go forward, and endeavor 
to acquit myself with Christian propriety. 

'' My intercourse with the world, as far as it ex- 
tends, shall be perfectly honorable, Christian, frank, 
kind, and magnanimous; — any good attained or 
done at the expense of this, costs too much. 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 33 

" It shall be my pleasure to exert a happy influ- 
ence on all within the little circle in which I move. 

^' I will never be disturbed or diverted from my 
purpose by the remarks, conduct, and opinions of 
those who do not know my character, or understand 
my motives; but will ever maintain that self-pos- 
session, freedom, independence, and liberality of 
feeling which constitute true dignity. 

'• Why should we be for ever undoing the work 
of life ? Why should we wish to be just like every 
body else ? I will be myself, and make the best of 
it. God grant that I may grow better ! " 

Mr. Stearns left the theological seminary, with 
his class, in the autumn of 1828. On the occasion 
of anniversary, he read a sketch of the character of 
Ulric Zuingle, which afterwards appeared in the 
Spirit of the Pilgrims, Vol. IL, pages 305-308. 
He also delivered a parting address to the Porter 
Rhetorical Society, of which he was at that time 
the presiding officer. This address, as it exhibits 
his ideal of the style and demeanor which becomes 
the pulpit, and may be considered the outlines of 
that model according to which he prepared himself 
for his public ministrations, is worthy a careful pe- 
rusal. 



34 LIFE AND CHARACTEK OF 



CHAPTER IV. 

HIS PREA.CHING IN PHILADELPHIA — RELAXATION AND STUDIES AT 
BEDFORD — PREACHING IN VARIOUS PLACES — INTEREST IN HIS 
NATIVE TOWN DEATH OF A SISTER. 

On leaving the seminary, being convinced that his 
health, again much reduced, would not allow of his 
settling in the ministry for the present,** he accepted 
an invitation to pass the winter in Philadelphia, and 
assist the Rev. Dr. Skinner, by preaching in his pul- 
pit a part of the time. It was a source of much 
mortification and pain to him, that even this service 
was too great for his broken constitution to sustain. 
His labors were comparatively light, but he crippled 
under them. ^^For one month out of three," he 
says, '' 1 was unable to do any thing." He made up 
his mind, from this experiment, that he must leave 
the ministry as a profession, or content himself ^4o 
live as a wanderer," for a long while to come. 
About this time, also, he lost a friend by death, 
^'who was to him almost as a brother." Grief and 
disappointment seemed now to blight his prospects 
and bow his soul to the dust. Yet his confidence 
in God was unshaken. He writes: ''God is sover- 
eign. I have been made more and more to feel that 
his judgments are unsearchable^ and his ways are 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 35 

past finding out. We cannot understand them. We 
cannot tell, by any particular reasonings, what will 
be his particular providences ; nor why they take 
place as they do ; verily the Judge of all the earth 
will do right ; — but not often give us the reasons of 
his conduct. Let us bow to his authority, without 
one murmur^ and only say, with a firm, reverential 
voice. Let him do, for he hath a right to do. Yes, 
there is a Providence that directs all things. I do 
not find, after much investigation and reflection, that 
it promises much, specifically^ but it does promise, 
' I will never leave you nor forsake you.' And why 
is not this enough ? We have no demands on God ; 
but we know that he is a very kind Master, — an 
indulgent Father ; he will do whatever is best, and 
he will always be with us. This is enough. Let 
us trust him cheerfully, come what will. For my 
part, I may say, that though a wanderer and a 
stranger in the earth, I never felt more contented 
in my life." 

From this period, Mr. Stearns resided, most of the 
time, for several years, with his parents, at Bedford. 
In the mean while he was not idle. Retired in a 
great measure from the world, by strict attention to 
diet and exercise, and by occasional traveUing ex- 
cursions, he was able to give up his mind with much 
constancy, to his favorite studies and musings. He 
projected a work, on the Moral Nature of Man, to be 
comprised in three octavo volumes. The subject of 
the first was Conscience, — of the second. The His- 
tory of Man as a Religious Being, — and of the third, 



36 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

The Doctrines and Economy of Revelation. The 
outlines of the first, after long and patient investiga- 
tion, were sketched. The subjects of the other two 
volumes, were to be, it is presumed, among the prin- 
cipal topics of study, in after life. During this time 
also, besides rendering his father, now infirm with 
age, important assistance in his parochial and minis- 
terial duties, Mr. Stearns would often go abroad and 
supply in vacant parishes for several weeks and even, 
in one or two instances, months in succession. Press- 
ing invitations were given him, by several societies, 
to settle among them as a minister, with affectionate 
assurances that he might graduate the amount of 
service by his ability to perform it. But the good- 
will of a people cannot always greatly diminish the 
labor which their condition demands. Besides, he 
had made up his mind, upon mature deliberation, 
that to take upon himself the responsibilities of a 
Christian pastor, and attempt the incessant labors of 
the ministry, with his present health, would be pre- 
sumptuous. He never allowed himself, therefore, 
to be considered a candidate for settlement. On 
several occasions, however, he was led, by the im- 
portunities of those who felt a peculiar interest in 
his preaching, to review the grounds of his deter- 
mination to remain unsettled, and inquire what God 
would have him do. The result was, in every in- 
stance, that the time for incessant labor in the sacred 
office had not yet come. In some of these societies 
he was deeply interestedj and used to speak of them 
as objects of affection and prayer, to the day of his 
death. From one of them he writes : 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 37 

"March 15th, 1830, 1 find things altogether dif- 
ferent from what I had expected. There is a revival 
here, and labor enough for any two healthy and vig- 
orous and experienced men. I have no time to write 
and no time to study, — I must walk and talk and 
preach, or lie down and try to sleep, all the time. 
I am glad, however, that the Lord has brought me 
here. I believe that it is for good. It has opened a 
new chapter in the book of his providence. I have 
read a new lesson, and I hope with some profit. 
There are not many cases of deep, pungent convic- 
tion ; but there are a few which it would make your 
heartache to witness, — such writhing agony, — such 
struggling with a sinful, obdurate heart ; — and there 
is a general seriousness, — a disposition to hear and 
think and converse and inquire. One man who has 
been an opposer, came to a neighbor last night, and 
said, that * he was completely cornered up,' — he 
knew he ought to be conformed to God ; but he 
wanted to ask one question : How can a man love 
Godj when he knows that he hates God with all his 
heart 1 Some of the recent converts appear exceed- 
ingly well, and are very interesting. There are 
some quite young, who both charm and astonish 
me. One lad said to me, at an inquiry meeting, last 
Saturday evening, * I feel best, sir, when I feel most 
humble, but I can!t he humble enough; I want to 
lie low at Jesus^s feet^ and this, with an expression 
of countenance, which seemed to speak more than 
words. There are some little girls, younger than 
A C , that talk like old experienced Chris- 

VOL. I. 4 



38 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

tians. But perhaps the most interesting feature of 
all is, a spirit of prayer ; there are more praying men 
here than I have ever seen in any place, — and I am 
told there is a still greater number of praying women. 
These men are among the most intelligent and re- 
spectable and influential in the place, — old men of 
stout frames and strong minds, — and young men of 
firm nerve and decided character. I never heard 
such prayers off*ered by laymen, perhaps I may say, 
by any men in my life; — such simplicity, such 
pertinence, such calm fervor, such faith. They 
seem to have no more doubt, than if they stood 
right before the throne of God, and saw him, with 
their bodily eyes ; and are no more agitated, than if 
the}^ had been accustomed to stand there from their 
youth up. There is no wildness, no extravagance; 
but they seem to talk with God face to face. I 
attended one prayer meeting, in which there was 
very little conversation or address, but six such men 
prayed in turn. It was, indeed, like a heaven 
below. Irreligious and cold-hearted men might 
say this was fanaticism ; but I would almost defy 
them to come into such a meeting and believe it." 

Mr. Stearns's feelings were so deeply interested 
in this parish, the prospect of immediate usefulness 
was so great, that, although it could oSer few if any 
worldly inducements, he was nearly persuaded to 
risk all consequences and labor among them till he 
fell in the work, and rose, as a martyr, to heaven. 
But circumstances made it very evident to his 
friends, that this inclination could not wisely be 



II 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 39 

indulged. They saw, or thought they saw, that in 
a few weeks or months, at longest, '' the bruised reed 
must be broken," under the immense labors of such 
a society. He could look for no assistance in the 
work ; he could expect no important relaxation from 
his toils. Besides, it was his nature to do a little^ 
and do it well. How presumptuous then it might 
have been, at that time, to take upon himself such 
burdens ! 

Amidst the disheartening influences of sickness, 
and oft repeated disappointments, Mr. Stearns pre- 
served, for the most part, a cheerfulness of spirits. 
But he must have been more than man, if his heart 
did not sometimes sink. 

The following letters reveal the undisguised sen- 
timents of the sufferer in his hours of deepest depres- 
sion, and while they illustrate character, they may 
be generally useful to the sons and daughters of 
affliction : — 

"Dear and respected Father, 

'* Your letter of the 16th inst. was received last 
Saturday morning. I read it with mingled and con- 
flicting emotions. I smiled and I wept over it. I 
was pleased with the simplicity and boldness of 
your faith, and melted by the repeated expressions 
of your kindness and tenderness. I admired the 
magnanimity of the father, and lamented the weak- 
ness and uselessness of the son. 

^' You say, that you are ^ willing to believe that 
he, whose government is the very perfection of wis- 



40 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

dom and goodness, does not as yet see me sufficiently 
qualified for that usefulness, for which he has merci- 
fully designed me. He is therefore trying me in 
the furnace, and when the wood, hay, stubble and 
the like, are burnt up, he will dispel the cloud,' &c. 
I don't know. I thought so once. And 1 thought I 
was really making progress, and becoming, slowly 
but constantly, more prepared for such a happy 
issue. If this be the design, it affords but very faint 
encouragement, — such long and such severe disci- 
pline, and with such miserable apparent effect. 

^' But you say, in regard to the divine purpose, 
* Be this as it may, if God is glorified, is not the end 
of your being answered, and shall not all be well ? ' 
Most certainly, — yes — yes — yes — without the 
shadow of a doubt, — all shall be well, and all is 
well. God alone is, and has been, my only hope 
for this life, as well as the future ; if this were gone, 
all would be gone. 

^^I have been invited to take a temporary situa- 
tion in college. But, in my opinion, nothing 

would be gained by this arrangement, as to efficiency 
and real preparation for the exciting and exhausting 
efforts of the pulpit. The only way for me is to 
persevere^ and keep trying^ until I succeed, or am 
constrained to abandon the ministry, as a profession, 
altogether." 

** Venerated and beloved Father, 

" Your letter of the 5th inst. came to hand yes- 
terday morning. I sincerely thank you for your 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 41 

kindness and tenderness, most fully adopt the sen- 
timents you express, and cordially reciprocate your 
best wishes. All things are, indeed, possible with 
God, and from him alone is my expectation. If he 
sees best that the talents and knowledge which, you 
are pleased to say, he has given me, should be made 
conducive to my comfort, or the good of mankind, 
he certainly will overrule events to the accomplish- 
ment of his purpose. If he sees best, he can easily 
relieve me of every embarrassment, give me health 
and vigor, and place me in a situation to act my 
part, as a man and as a Christian, and to do some- 
thing for the happiness of my friends and for the 
welfare of society. If he sees best, it needs but a 
word, and it is done. If he sees it not best, I cer- 
tainly do not wish it. But, however willing we may 
be that a diseased limb should be taken off, and how- 
ever strong may be our conviction that it is for the 
best, this will not prevent the pain of amputation. 
Afflictions, though ever so salutary, are not for the 
present joyous, but grievous. Mine would certainly 
be intolerable, without this consolation ; and even 
with it, the suffering is exquisite. Constituted as I 
am, it is as impossible it should be otherwise, as that 
the tenderest plant in nature should flourish and 
bloom, without earth or air or water. It would be 
comparatively easy to gird myself up to the severest 
torture, for a few hours, or even a few days. But 
when the evil is long foreseen or apprehended, in the 
dim distance of the future, and comes on with slow 

but sure and steady approaches, and continues month 

4# 



42 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

after month and year after year, and hope allures 
but to deceive, and expectation is cherished but to 
bring disappointment, and patience itself does but 
prolong the suffering, and the very effort to sustain 
it becomes almost equally painful, then it is that 
nature will, sometimes^ sink, and existence become 
a burthen, and the sweetest consolations but pre- 
vent the bitterness of despondency and complaint. 
Yes, there are times, it must be confessed, when my 
day ceases to shme, even with the faint glimmer- 
ings of twilight, when darkness gathers and settles, 
and lingers long and thick and silent around me, 
and when my plaintive and solicitous inquiry, 
'Watchman, what of the night?' — is only met 
with the cheerless return, — ^ No morning cometh, 
but the night,'— and all around seems to echo, 
night ! 

'^ But I forbear, and charge myself to shut back 
the dark waters which come flooding upon me while 
I write. I forbear, lest I draw too black a picture, 
and give pain where I would give only pleasure." 

How earnestly he longed to enter into the field of 
the Lord, and labor with the reapers, and how deeply 
he felt for the spiritual interests of his fellow-men, 
and especially for the inhabitants of his native town, 
may be gathered, in a degree, from the following 
letter, which was written to his father a little more 
than a year after the two which have just been 
quoted, and bears date, June 18th, 1831. 

^^ If I can but conquer this protean disease, and 
rise from its deadly oppression with strength to defy 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 43 

its power, I shall consider no eflfort and no sacrifice, 
short of the sacrifice of moral integrity, too great. 
I sometimes flatter myself that I have not been vainly 
encouraged to expect such success. But it must be 
a work of time and self-denial and perseverance and 
patience, perhaps more than I can command. If I 
were fully convinced that there was no probability 
of my gaining any more health than I have had, my 
present disposition would be to go immediately 
home, and settle down as soon as possible, and 
patiently spend the little strength that I have, in the 
service of my Master, and calmly yield my spirit to 
his care. But I think he calls me to another course ; 
and while I pursue it in dependence on him, I must 
quietly and cheerfully wait for the result. I hope 
he is blessing you with growing strength and reviv- 
ing spirits, and, more than this, that you will ere 
long be allowed, in meekness and in joy, to gather 
in for his garner an abundant harvest from among 
your people, as the result of your long and painful 
toil. I have long hoped and prayed for it, and, I 
may almost say, long expected it. I confess I shall 
be a little disappointed if such an event does not 
occur ; but God knows, and not we, whether that 
would really be wisest and best. With him let us 
leave it, in serenity and faith, and all shall be well. 
It is a privilege to sow and cultivate, even if we 
may not be permitted to reap. And, perhaps, it 
may enhance the joys of heaven, to look down from 
that quiet home of rest, and see another of kindred 
spirit reaping in those fields, that have been sown 



44 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

with SO much care and watched with so much solici- 
tude, now become white for the harvest, and richly 
waving everywhere with abundant fruits. O, it 
will send a new thrill of delight through the soul, 
as the recollection comes up, — There I * broke up 
the fallow ground,' and there I sowed the seed, and 
watched and toiled and prayed, and there I see now 
the gathering sheaves. With what joy, as they are 
borne along, will such an one ^ shout the blessing 
home.' This is truly a remarkable day for revivals 
of religion. There are several, very interesting, in 

this vicinity. In W , it is said, there are four 

hundred inquirers. And who can tell how soon 
there may be four hundred inquirers at Bedford. It 
is calm, believing, trusting, heartfelt, habitual 
prayer, that does such wonders. It is the incense 
of united prayer, rising stilly, steadily, constantly, 
majestically, from confiding hearts to the throne of 
God, that brings down such overflowing blessings." 
Mr. Stearns loved his native village with a strong 
natural and Christian atfection. Warm in his attach- 
ments, and imaginative as well as discriminating in 
his feelings, there were charms in his reminiscences 
of Bedford, of subduing power. There he first drew 
the breath of life, — there were his earliest friend- 
ships and pleasures, — there were the play-grounds 
and playmates of his childhood, — there were the 
old men whom he reverenced, and the young men 
who had been his companions at school, — there 
was the grave-yard which treasured the dust of 
many generations, and there was the church in 



KEV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 



45 



whose bosom his infant piety had been cherished. 
He loved the town. He had roved alone, or in 
company, through all its woods and over all its 
fields ; and to his mind there was poetry in its sober 
hills and humble streams, — its rugged pastures and 
tangled swamps, — its quiet homes and cultivated 
farms. He knew every spot by familiar observa- 
tion, and felt a sort of filial interest in every well 
known rock and aged tree. 

Besides this, he identified himself with the inhab- 
itants of the place. He was sensitive to the honor 
of the town, watched its growth, and indulged a 
noble pride in its advancement. When any stigma 
was thrown upon its reputation, he felt it almost as 
a blot upon his own. 

In all his wanderings, he never forgot that Bed- 
ford was home^ '' sweet, sweet home." He loved it 
more than the crowded cities, more than the tasteful 
towns, more than the mountains or valleys of a 
country, which, though perhaps far more magnifi- 
cent, was less familiar to his eye. He loved it 
because it was home, — and if, in any respect, it 
seemed changed, he loved it still. 

For the spiritual interests of the younger genera- 
tion, he considered himself, in some degree, respon- 
sible. He labored for them and with them, on 
suitable occasions, with fraternal assiduity ; and 
some of them will long remember how he strove to 
convince them that in the religion of Jesus there is 
unspeakable joy ; that without it, with a load of 
unpardoned sins upon their souls, they wei^e unhappy 



46 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

and must be miserable ; that the doctrine of for- 
giveness for the penitent, by a crucified Redeemer, 
was a theme for the wonder of angels, and for the 
melting gratitude of all mankind. And some of 
those who listened to his exhortations, and joined 
with sympathy in his prayers, are now, we trust, 
swelling the chorus of the redeemed with him in 
heaven. 

Mr. Stearns identified the cause of piety, in Bed- 
ford, with the prevalence of those views, and with 
that Christian practice, which had been inculcated 
upon the people, from the first settlement of the 
town. It was, therefore, with mortification, with 
grief, and with anxiety, that he witnessed the 
attempted overthrow of the established faith. 

We would not here revive the scenes of that long 
and painful controversy between truth and error. It 
is sufficient to say, that Mr. Stearns was ever active 
in cheering the desponding flock, and in sustaining 
its injured pastor, from the time that, untried and 
unimpeached, he was ejected from his pulpit to 
make way for another denomination, till both pastor 
and people were sheltered in a new and commodious 
temple of their own. 

The language which he uniformly Used to the 
brethren of the church, and to which they also mag- 
nanimously responded, was this : '^ There must be 
no compromise with error. Under existing circum- 
stances, ask no favors, and if honor and piety will 
allow, receive none. Let nothing be done to 
reproach the honor of Christ ; there must be no trick- 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 47 

ing, no double-dealing ; nothing that is crooked ; 
nothing that is suspicious. Avoid even the appear- 
ance of evil. Take joyfully the spoiling of your 
goods. Better suffer wrong than do wrong. If 
money is taken from you unjustly to support .... 
preaching, you svffer^ but are not r^esponsible. At 
all events, do nothing to injure your Christian cha- 
racter and growth in grace ; — that character must 
not be sullied ! " 

In the winter of 1833, Mr. Stearns was called to 
part with his eldest sister, by death. She was the 
companion of his infancy, the first playmate of his 
childhood ; — the object of warm and pure and unin- 
terrupted love. She was married to a gentleman 
who is a merchant in the place, and had become the 
mother of a beautiful child. 

She was always of a delicate constitution, but 
from this time she languished, and in a few months 
went down to an early but not untimely grave. 

Mr. Stearns was now preaching, for a few weeks, 

in the town of . When he hears of her 

increased illness, he writes : 

^'A , it seems, continues to decline. Poor 

girl, she has been spared so much longer than we 
feared, that I began to indulge fond hopes that her 
disease, though very obstinate, might yet be sub- 
dued. It is painful, indeed, to think of parting with 
her, and sad to think of a breach in our family circle. 
But, it seems, that God has begun to remove us, and 
it will not be long before we are all on the other side 
of the valley of death. Let us not fail to bow in 



48 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

calm submission, and pray that he will lift upon us 
the light of his countenance, and lift the light of his 
countenance upon her, and give her bright views of 
that world where our sainted friends, I trust, are 
waiting to receive her, and where, I hope, we shall 
be joined with her in the enjoyment of God. Give 
my love to her, and tell her not to forget that God 
is a father^ — Christ is a brother^ — the Holy Ghost 
is a comforter^ — and heaven the home of the be* 
liever,^^ 

A few days after the above he writes: — 
^^ I have just returned from a visit to our dear sick 
sister. About noon she had an ill turn, and was 
supposed to be dying. She, however, soon revived 
a little, and is still living, and has her reason perfectly. 
I think I never saw one in her situation more calm 
and tranquil and peaceful. I went to her bedside 
and asked, if she felt more comfortable ; she said, 
* No.' ^ Are you peaceful within ? ' ^ Yes.' ' Cari 
you say, I know in whom I have trusted ? ' 'Yes.' 
^ Do you feel willing to leave your friends in God's 
care ? ' ' Yes.' I sat some time in the room, and 
when I came away I spoke to her again : ^ Is all 
well, yet ? ' * Yes, well ! ' ^ Let not your heart be 
troubled, believe in God, believe in Christ. I must 
leave you now; we shall meet again when God 
pleases, — goodbye.' 'Bye.' For some time she 
has been evidently and constantly approaching 
nearer and nearer the grave, nearer and nearer hea- 
ven. She hopes she shall not be impatient^ but 
longs to be gone. A few days since, she attempted 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 49 

to sing, and sung in her way that verse of Watts ; — 

* Alas, and did my Saviour bleed ! ' 

She requested that her grave-clothes might be made, 
and gave some directions about her funeral. When 

she revived after fainting, at noon, Mr. M said, 

* Do you know me, A ? ' * Yes,' said she, very 

earnestly ; — and glancing her eye around the room, 
' 1 know you all. Why did'nt you let me go? I 
should have gone easy then ! ' It is very probable 
a messenger may reach you before this letter, but I 
have written that you may have some idea of her 
situation." 

It is hardly necessary to add, that this poor girl, 
who in all her sickness was a model of patience, and 
of modest and confiding piety, fell sweetly asleep in 
Jesus, within a few hours after the above was writ- 
ten, and went to glory, as the pioneer of this brother, 
who had done so much many years before to win 
her gentle spirit to the Saviour. 



VOL. I. 



60 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 



CHAPTER V. 

SETTLEMENT IN BOSTON — FAILURE OF HEALTH — DEATH OF HIS 
FATHER — EFFORTS TO RECOVER — DISMISSION. 

Mr. Stearns became now more and more anxious 
to enter efficiently upon the duties of that office to 
which he had devoted his Hfe. Since the spring of 
1830, he had been gaining in heaUh, and cheering 
himself with the prospect of usefulness. He had 
made several experiments of his strength in preach- 
ing, without serious inconvenience. In some soci- 
eties of no small responsibility, he had endured 
hardness as a good soldier. In the autumn and 
winter of 1832, he supplied for several weeks in 
succession the Federal Streeet church in Newbury- 
port, and in the winter and spring of 1833, the Park 
Street church in Boston : and though he declined 
an invitation, at that time presented, to supply for a 
little season the Old South church, on account of 
infirm health, he was yet encouraged to believe 
that the time was not distant, when he should be 
able to sustain all the duties of the ministerial and 
pastoral relation. 

Much of the following season was spent in jour- 
neying and relaxation. Near the close of the year, 
Mr. Stearns found himself so much invigorated, 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 51 

that, urged on by providential circumstances, he was 
led to consider anew the question of immediate set- 
tlement in the ministry. The years of professional 
life were rapidly passing away. He had acquired a 
fund of knowledge and experience, which he could 
not conscientiously withhold from the church. He 
had repeatedly tested his strength of late, with the 
most encouraging results. And, might it not be 
possible, that he had held back too long already; 
and might not the pleasing, though laborious em- 
ployments of the sacred office, united with the 
cheering consciousness that he was now engaged in 
the appropriate business of his life, contribute more 
than continued leisure, with its attending discour- 
agements, to secure the stability of his health? 
And would it not be less inglorious, and more 
acceptable to God, that he should expend what 
strength he had, and finish his course, in the effort 
to do ; than to linger on unemployed, and, without 
an attempt to accomplish his work on earth, fall a 
victim, perhaps, to anxiety and discouragement? 
'* He that findeth his life shall lose it, and he that 
loselh his life for my sake, shall find it." Thus he 
reasoned, and after much deliberation, came to the 
determination to preach as a candidate for settle- 
ment, in any place to which God, in his providence, 
should call him. He selected for himself a retired 
parish, not far distant from his native town, in 
which he had preached for a little season, at a for- 
mer period, among a people of steady habits, who 
would demand moderate labors, and could offer the 



53 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

prospect of usefulness, as the only inducement to 
settle among them. He would willingly have be- 
come their pastor and servant in the Lord. But in 
the event, the circumstances which respected a 
settlement were untoward. ** Surely," said he, 
** man deviseth his way, and the Lord directeth his 
paths.'' 

A short time after this, he preached a single 
Sabbath to the Old South church and society, in 
Boston, and for several Sabbaths following to the 
Tabernacle church in Salem. On his return from 
the last-mentioned place, he was induced to spend 
two Sabbaths and the intervening week in Boston, 
in ministerial labors, among the people of the Old 
South church and society. These two churches, 
with their respective societies, having presented 
him a unanimous invitation each, to settle among 
them in the gospel ministry, he was naturally led 
to believe that God was now demanding his con- 
stant services in the church, and would have him 
without delay gird himself to the work. " The 
whole business of life," he says, ^' must come up 
in solemn review, and I shall need the wisdom and 
the prayers of my friends." He was also much 
affected, and at times overpowered, with the mys- 
terious dealings of God, who, after keeping him 
in the school of discipline so long, had suddenly 
thrown open these two large fields of labor, dis- 
tinctly saying, as he thought, '' Thrust in the sickle, 
and reap." As he looked back, he was melted ; as 
he looked forward, he was filled with awe. The 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 53 

responsibilities of the pastoral and ministerial office, 
sufficient, if they could be appreciated, to crush an 
angel, had been growing in importance upon his 
imagination for years. They now rose up before 
him like a mountain, which the voice of providence 
seemed to command his feeble shoulders to sustain. 
'* Sometimes," he says, *^ 1 am ready to sink, and 
feel as if I had well nigh finished my course. Some- 
times I stand amazed at the Providence of God ; 
and very commonly am overwhelmed and overborne 
with a sense of his goodness and forbearance ! 1 

am melted under it and depressed with it ! 

And then again, I am startled, like one that looks 
from a giddy height down a precipice ; or a dreadful 
awe comes over me, as over one who looks up the 
side of a huge mountain or overhanging rock! .... 
Much of this week has been spent in taking a review 
of my past life, — running my eye all along the way 
in which the Lord has led me. I wish to look at all 
that is past, as if I had nov/ come to the end ; to 
see its errors, its sins, and its honest purposes too ; 
to see how God has overruled all, and to learn, as 
well as I can, from the past, what are the indications 
of his providence for the future." 

After much deliberation, consultation and prayer, 
he accepted the invitation from Boston, and was 
ordained April 16th, 1834. 

It may be a subject of surprise to some, that one 

so feeble from his youth, should consent to take upon 

himself the responsibilities of so arduous a station. 

But the reasons, in part, must have been gathered 

5* 



54 



LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 



from the foregoing narrative ; — providential circum- 
stances led the way. Besides, a clergyman in Bos- 
ton, under favorable circumstances, has opportunity to 
secure relief from the pressure of ministerial services, 
whenever necessity requires. It is expected that 
his discourses will be well studied, and all his exer- 
cises of a high order. But it is not desired, that he 
will deliver uniformly two or even three sermons on 
the Sabbath, lecture in different parts of the town 
during the week, spend the larger portion of his 
time in pastoral visiting, and struggle along with 
pecuniary anxieties and embarrassments, which for- 
bid the indulgence of journeying, or other recreation 
for health. Nor is he often under even an imaginary 
necessity to toil on, month after month, and year 
after year, till his constitution, be it of oak or as 
delicate as a garden flower, is broken down, and he 
goes to his early grave, unappreciated, and with 
scarcely the consolation, that the work of the Lord 
has prospered in his hands. 

In cities the demands for ministerial service are 
great, and the responsibilities are greater. But talent 
and Christian taste is more generally appreciated ; 
the burden of cares and labors is better understood ; 
sympathy imparts health ; and relief, generously and 
delicately proposed, gives courage to endure. If 
necessity requires, the clergyman may revive his 
waning strength by temporary absence, and* not feel 
that ^* the cause" will be injured, or that even the 
poor of the flock will think themselves unrequited 
for the sacrifices they make. 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 55 

In the present instance, the infirmities with which 
the subject of this notice had been long encompassed, 
were made known without disguise, and the fullest 
and kindest assurances of all needed aid were receiv- 
ed in return. There were also peculiarities in this 
church and society which seemed to urge, with much 
decision, a favorable answer to the call. They had 
been long without a pastor, and been subject to many 
disheartening providences. They were now united ; 
and many individuals pressed hard the invitation. 

In view of circumstances, the immediate friends 
with whom Mr. Stearns consulted, and who knew 
that he was better fitted, by nature and by education, 
to pilot the ship, than to tug incessantly at the oar, 
coincided with him in opinion, that his prospects for 
health and usefulness would be greater in this than 
in almost any other pastoral connection in the land. 
Nor in all their disappointment, and painful watch- 
ings, and anxieties for the invalid in a foreign coun- 
try, and grief for the ties of friendship, at last unex- 
pectedly ruptured, have they been led to doubt, that 
this opinion was correct. 

The day of ordination was a season of solemnity 
and anxiety to Mr. Stearns. He was now to gird 
on the whole armor of God, to propose his life as a 
sacrifice to the church ; to address his soul to its great 
conflict with the world. Ordination day ! Sufii- 
ciently exciting to a young candidate, at best, many 
circumstances conspired, in the present instance, to 
make it overpowering. Dr. Skinner, with whom 
he had labored, as with an elder brother, during the 



66 LirE AND CHARACTER OT 

first months of his ministerial life, delivered the ser- 
mon : — *' The joy of the Lord is your strength." 
The consecrating prayer rose warm from the heart 
of his predecessor in that holy place, Dr. Wisner. 
Parental love gave the charge of office to the ^' child 
of its hopes and fears ;" — and it is not strange, that 
when the hand which pens these lines and which, 
in its infancy, had clung to this elder brother for 
protection, was now presented to him in the name 
and with the fellowship of the churches, his whole 
frame should be shaken with emotion ; or that the 
scenes of this day, preceded as they were, by many- 
weeks of labor and excitement, and attended, as 
they must have been, with rushing recollections and 
anticipations and anxieties, should have done much 
to prostrate the powers which were over-nerved to 
sustain them. 

The following letter, written Monday after the 
Sabbath which succeeded ordination, will be read 
with interest by all who have ever preached as the 
pastor of a flock, and by all who feel a sympathy in 
the scenes just described : — 

<« Boston, April 21, 1834. 
** Honored Parents, 

'^ You may, perhaps, be looking for the earliest 
intelligence from the child of your hopes and fears, 
your joy and disappointment, your faith and despond- 
ency, your prayers and lamentations. I have, there- 
fore, taken a big book for a table, and sit down in 
my rocking-chair before the fire, to scribble a line. 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 57 

" I cannot tell with what feelings I awoke, on the 
morning after you left me, in the consciousness that 
I was an ordained minister of the gospel, the author- 
ized and responsible pastor of a numerous flock, ap- 
pointed to care for their souls. Recollections of 
the past, and anticipations of the future, came rushing 
over me in strange combinations, and waves of 
emotion rolled through my heart, like a sea after a 
storm. I rose and dressed myself, and sat down at 
my window to muse, in silent astonishment, on the 
scene that lay before me. It was all enchantment. 
Directly under my eye was a wide field of the dead, 
covered with the monuments of generations past. 
There lay some of my own kindred. There lay one 
who was the companion of my infancy and child- 
hood, who has often borne me in her arms, and led 
me to school, and amnsed me in my sports. There 
lay some of my predecessors, in the care and service 
of the church, — Huntington and Eckley, — and I 
know not how many of those who were before them. 
The green grass was springing up among their 
tombs, and over their graves, in the freshness of the 
morning, and the dew lay upon it, and the rising 
sun glittered on the drops, and the tombs and thick 
gravestones threw their long shadows over the dead, 
as if to veil them from excessive brightness. In the 
corner opposite, Park Street Church, whre I preach- 
ed my first sermon in Boston, stood in its grandeur, 
and lifted its tall spire into the skies. Along the outer 
edge, a row of lofty elms spread out their venerable 
branches. Then the thronged street displayed itself, 



68 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

and the noise of wheels and hoofs had begun, inces- 
sant for the day. And next the crowded dwellings 
of the city rose in massy piles. Among them, and 
directly opposite my window, was to be seen in 
modest retirement, and almost shouldered into ob- 
scurity by more recent and imposing structures, 
what was probably the mansion of some great one 
a century ago. The towers and steeples of ten or 
twelve churches or meeting-houses miglit be dis- 
cerned at a glance, and among them, the spire of my 
own, just rising over the top of the Tremont. Be- 
yond them lay the harbor in full display of its beauty 
and glory, its islands and ships, — the castle^ the 
very spot with which is associated the most fascinat- 
ing portion of the history of one of my grandfathers, 
the house of industry and its companion, and near 
them the famous heights of Dorchester, now includ- 
ed within the limits of the city. Around to the 
right, in one continued line, rising above all the 
buildings, were distinctly seen the hills of Dorches- 
ter, Roxbury, and Brookline. My eyes glanced over 
the distant and variegated scenery, and then return- 
ed, and rested on the pensive spot that lay imme- 
diately under my window. I gazed there, fixed in 
unremembered thought, and was lost, till the sum- 
mons came for breakfast. I then went down and 
attended the devotions of the family, and sat with 
them a little while at the breakfast table, and has- 
tened back and resumed my seat and meditations 
before the window, till torn away by the calls of one 
and another whose visits have been incessant ever 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 69 

since Saturday. However, I had a little leisure, 
and wrote about one third of a sermon which I had 
begun at home, and finished it. Yesterday, I 
preached for the first time as a consecrated pastor, 
and truly must say, I never knew what it is to be a 
minister before. There are feelings which spring 
up in a pastor's heart, of which I had scarcely con- 
ceived. Candidate preaching, or supply preaching, 
is but a schoolboy's lesson, in comparison with it. 
I had also a child to baptize, and have now some 
idea of what you feel, when you drop the emblem- 
atic water upon the head of a lamb of your flock, 
as it lies on its parent's arm, and lifting the same 
hand still wet with the emblem towards heaven, 
consecrate the young immortal to Father, Son, and 
Holy Ghost. 

^^The weather in the morning was very forbid- 
ding ; it rained freely till almost meeting time ; but 
the house was full. 

^' I know nothing how the services were received, 
and am not particularly anxious about it. On 
account of the weather, as well as my own feeble 
health, it was a hard day to preach ; but it was an 
interesting day to me. I came home and threw 
myself upon my bed with aching limbs, and full of 
strange thoughts and emotions. In the evening, I 
had a real, thoroughgoing sick headache, and have 
now scarcely recovered from it. But I have lived 
to become an ordained minister of Christ, — to be 
entrusted with the pastoral charge, — and to preach 
once, as one that watches for souls. What is now 



60 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

before me I know not. I can scarcely see a step's 
distance. I must try to walk by faith, for certainly 
I cannot by sight. I think if I were able to sustain 
the office and do any good, I should be pleased to 
live and labor and pray, and, if God so please, to die 
here with and for my people. My people ! It seems 
to me that I say this, with some such feelings as a 
father or a mother says for the first time, My son. 
But perhaps I may very soon fail them, and be 
obliged to leave. Let us not expect too much." 

How important the caution, '^ Let us not expect 
too much ! " But who could realize at that time, 
how little it was safe to expect ! 

Mr. Stearns preached to his people two Sabbaths 
and one sermon on the third Sabbath, and never 
preached afterwards. He was, doubtless, a sick 
man, sustained chiefly by excitement, at the time of 
his ordination. The stock of health, sedulously 
gathered for years, was greatly diminished by the 
labors and influences already noticed. In addition 
to these, the severe trials of his father at Bedford, in 
which he sympathized perhaps, too deeply, clouded 
his spirits and consumed his strength. Then came 
the ordination, — the soul-inspiring but exchausting 
services of the first Sabbath, — the incessant visit- 
ing, and receiving of company which naturally fol- 
lows, and new responsibilities and labors heretofore 
untried. It was evident to some that he had gone, 
unwittingly, in the very outset of his work, far 
beyond his strength. After the third Sabbath, he 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 61 

became fully conscious of the fact. Still he strug- 
gled on. But it was in vain ! He grew sick, — his 
mind became confused, — he felt that he was gone ! 

This was a dark and bitter season. The star of 
hope which had cheered him on, for so many years, 
and had led him up at last to the attainment of his 
wishes and prayers, went out It went out, and all 
around was night ! Conscious that he could do no 
more, he came directly over to the writer's house at 
Cambridge, and never can fraternal sympathy forget 
his appearance at that time; — the pale features, 
— the tear which floated in his large eye, — the 
smile of resignation which played on his face, — the 
tones which quivered upon his lips, — the image of 
exhaustion, of strong but placid emotion which he 
presented, as he threw himself upon the sofa, and 
said, ^^ / am done ; I can do no more! You must 
help me down as well as you can." 

In a few days, however, hope dawned again, and 
soon hope, that hope which, in his own language, 
'* allures but to deceive," and is ^' cherished but to 
bring disappointment," resumed its ascendency. He 
was encouraged to believe, that by a few days of 
repose or recreation, he might recover his elasticity 
and resume his duties. He hoped, but his health 
was evidently declining ; he made an excursion to 
Nahant, enjoyed the air and the scenery, but grew 
worse. Finding that it was still " hope deferred," 
he chose to return to Bedford, and there endeavor, 
amidst the freedom of his native fields, to gather back 
his strength as rapidly as Providence would allow. 

VOL. I. 6 



62 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

But weeks past on and months, and the invalid, 
though encouraging himself that he should soon be 
restored, was probably ^^ nothing bettered, but rather 
grew worse." 

This sickness was a trial of no ordinary character 
to all concerned. To Mr. Stearns himself, it was 
the running over of the cup of bitterness. It brought 
back the discouragements of many years with 
redoubled power. ^' O, no one can tell," said he, 
^^ the struggle I have had against nature or disease, 
and untoward circumstances, while many must have 
looked upon me as pusillanimous and idle, and des- 
titute of the spirit of a man." It threw another 
cloud upon the future. '• Yet," he continues, and 
this was the only earthly prop which sustained him, 
" I ever have thought, and I think still, that I shall 
rise again and be useful." 

It was a peculiar trial to friends. They saw him 
borne down by responsibilities which the Christian 
pastor, though sick, cannot throw off, and which 
when sick, however cheered by the patience and 
encouragements of his people, he cannot sustain. 
They saw that the principle of vitality burned low, 
and that the very attempt to remove the burdens 
which choked the flame might probably quench it 
forever. 

It was a peculiar trial to his people. That ancient 
vine so long neglected had just begun to weave 
around, and sustain itself and put forth a fresh luxu- 
riance upon, the newly chosen prop, when that prop 
falls beneath the weight, and leaves the discouraged 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 63 

branches to be again trodden under foot, or wind their 
unsupported way to heaven as they can. The mu- 
tual relations of pastor and people were encompassed 
with difficulties. Still it was not thought expedient 
that they should be suddenly sundered. He, on his 
part, was relieved and cheered with the most delicate 
and generous assurances from those of his flock who 
visited him at Bedford, and they, on their part, were 
encouraged to hope. 

In the autumn Mr. Stearns revived, and having 
gained strength for journeying, there was ground of 
confidence that the season of the year, so invigorat- 
ing to the debilitated, would restore him to comfort- 
able health. This confidence might perhaps have 
been realized. But God in his inscrutable provi- 
dence had prepared for him another blow. 

Mr. Stearns's father, now advanced in years, had 
been gradually declining through the summer! He 
saw distinctly that his end was near. The second 
Sabbath in October, communion day, he took public 
leave at the Lord's table of the flock which he had 
fed, through storm and through shine, for almost 
forty years ! From that day, knowing that his work 
was done, and being weary of life, his ^^ soul pant- 
ing," as he said, '^ for the pure society of the blessed," 
he went steadily down to the grave ! The subject 
of this notice was at his side, heard his dying coun- 
sels, his bright anticipations, the holy breathings of 
a spirit longing to ascend ; he saw the flesh waste, 
the frame bend, the eye sink ; he watched the fal- 
tering pulse, listened for the last indication of life, 



64 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

closed the eye which had so long looked upon him 
with a father's love, and the cold lips which had 
given him the charge of ministerial fidelity but a few 
months before. He bent the knee with his sisters 
in prayer, and sustained on his feeble arm the be- 
reaved widow to the grave. And though in all his 
affliction he was calm and well supported, when the 
scene was over, his spirits fell and his strength died 
away ! For a long time he appeared to be going 
downward to the grave ; life burnt in him like the 
flame of an exhausted lamp, flickering and low. 
But it went not out ; towards spring it kindled anew, 
and as the season opened, there was encouragement 
that health might yet be regained. 

That no pains might be spared to efl'ect so desira- 
ble an object, and as the invalid was now able to 
ride a short distance every day, it was thought advisa- 
ble that he should spend the summer in constant 
travelling, to the extent of his strength. A light 
and easy carriage was procured, in which he could 
be sheltered or exposed at pleasure, and the writer 
started with him from Bedford, June 6, 1835, on a 
pilgrimage for health. He was at that time so 
feeble that he could walk but with difficulty from 
the house to the carriage. He travelled the first day 
but little more than five miles, the second about ten, 
and the third not over twelve. At each day's stop- 
ping place, he was^o much exhausted as not only to 
keep his bed most of the time, but to require assidu- 
ous and laborious attentions. He was three weeks in 
going from Bedford, by way of Norwich, New Lon- 



REV, SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 65 

don and New Haven, to New York ; and for the first 
week, it seemed as if the ejSFort could not be sustain- 
by him, and the project of travelling must be aban- 
doned. Soon, however, he began to gain strength, 
and improved so rapidly, that, arriving at New York, 
he was able to walk daily perhaps a quarter of a 
mile! Having consulted with a distinguished phy- 
sician in that city, he was encouraged to go forward. 
The journey was resumed with trembling. He 
passed up, through the north-western parts of New 
Jersey and Pennsylvania, to Ithica in the State of 
New York ; thence, between the lakes Cayuga and 
Seneca, to Buffalo. After spending a little season 
at the falls of Niagara, he returned, through Roches- 
ter and Utica, to Troy ; thence, northward to Bur- 
lington, and thence, through Vermont, back to his 
native place, having been absent from home about 
three months. 

The arrangements of this journey were such that 
he could ride or rest, turn aside from his route and 
visit the curiosities of the country, or go forward, as 
he pleased. This exercise, with the heathful excite- 
ment of novel and ever-changing scenery, was so 
beneficial to him, that he came home decidedly con- 
valescent and comparatively well. The perils and 
anxieties, the curiosities, the beauties and sublimi- 
ties of that eventful journey, cannot here be describ- 
ed. The most remarkable characteristic of it, as it 
respects Mr. Stearns, was his sensitiveness to cir- 
cumstance and scenery. One of nature's own off- 
spring, he sympathized with her in all her works. 
6* 



66 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

His heart sang with the birds, opened and shut with 
the flowers, was awed and silenced among the moun- 
tains, was made mournful by forests of funeral hem- 
lock, was filled with heavenly visions at the sight 
of a glorious sunset, and was irritated and depressed 
by the strait hills of a houseless turnpike. He 
observed every thing, studied every thing, and 
spared no pains to understand every thing, as if his 
object had been to become familiar with nature, 
rather than to repair a broken constitution. He was 
particular! y impressed and even agitated by the extra- 
ordinary sublimities which he sometimes witnessed. 
On one occasion, he was nearly overpowered by them. 
The ride from Clarkestown to Carbondale in Penn- 
sylvania, over the Moosic mountain, is supremely 
grand. He passed the first ridge, and in the descent 
had a broad side view of the second. It was glorious 
beyond description. It lay along against the firma- 
ment in beautiful and awful repose. The dark ver- 
dure of hemlock forests which covered its sides was 
still darkened by thick clouds which hung over it, 
and the movement of the sun, which occasionally 
broke through, gave the whole an appearance, to an 
excited imagination, as if the spirit of God, passing 
silently by and overshadowing the mountain, threw 
here and there a smile upon the inexpressible 
grandeur of his works below. Mr. Stearns sat 
still and gazed in silent amazement. As he advanc- 
ed, all was new and wild and solemn. There was 
indeed every appearance of enterprise, — rail-ways, 
cars of coal, steam-engines laboriously pufling forth 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 67 

their volumes of smoke, and men busy at their 
various occupations, — but withal there was a mys- 
terious stilhiess, as if all things animate and inani- 
mate stood in awe. As we approached the ridge, 
Mr. Stearns became greatly excited by the view, 
and in a voice agitated with emotion would only 
say, after long intervals of silence, and in sup- 
pressed tones, and with an expression of counte- 
nance which cannot be described, — Oh f see! — I 
am overawed ! 

After this journey was completed, he attempted a 
tour of about three weeks' continuance, round the 
State of Maine, alone, in the little carriage which 
had borne him safely over the mountains of Vermont 
and Pennsylvania. From this excursion he returned 
with increased energy and hope; he spoke confi- 
dently of resuming his duties among his people in a 
few weeks more ! In this expectation he had been 
encouraged and led on *^from strength to strength, '* 
through the summer. Towards the close of autumn 
he visited New York again, for the purpose of con- 
sulting his physician and ascertaining how soon it 
would be safe for him to go back to his labors in 
Boston. He had already been with his people one 
or two Sabbaths, and had administered to them the 
sacrament of the Supper, and taken some part in the 
other public exercises. Hope now shone full upon 
his path. He was, however, advised to delay a iew 
iveeks, — and a few weeks more! At length, the 
first Sabbath in January was appointed, as the day 
on which he might go up to the house of the Lord 



68 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

and feed his flock like a shepherd again. But as 
the season drew on, after further investigation, it 
was discovered that his health was by no means 
matured, and that to preach at present would be a 
rash experiment, and might be attended with fatal 
consequences. He must live on hope certainly till 
spring, possibly till another winter, and indeed no 
one knew how long. On receiving this informa- 
tion, his heart sank in despondency. He had, how- 
ever, acquired vigor of body and mind to act with 
decision, and to sustain in some measure his dis- 
appointment. He returned to Boston, and after suit- 
able consultation, asked a dismission. 

Mr. Stearns loved the Old South. He had given 
an undivided heart to their service in the ministry, 
and the workings of imagination during a protracted 
illness had strengthened his attachment. But neither 
affection, nor a sense of duty, would allow him to 
remain with them as a burden, however severe the 
trial of a separation. 

" The wants of the people," said he, in a letter to 
a valued friend and correspondent in Boston, written 
several months before his dismission, '^I feel deeply 
and feel constantly. I am often pained on their ac- 
count, and anxious to know what I may best do for 
their relief. I trust, however, the Lord in his time 
will make my duty plain. In the mean while, it is 
cheering to me to be assured that I am *' the subject 
of frequent and earnest prayer in the church, on the 
Sabbath, and at other times." I have ever regarded 
it as the greatest favor which God has conferred 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 69 

upon me, in my sacred connection with that church. 
It always animates my spirit, and adds fervor and 
faith to my devotions, when, as I habitually observe 
their hours of public worship on the Sabbath, I bow 
myself before the throne of grace to mingle my 
prayers with theirs. 1 trust that God will ere long 
answer their supplications, at least, in bestowing a 
special blessing upon them." 

While agitating in his own mind the propriety of 
asking an immediate dismission, his feelings are thus 
expressed : — 

«^ Jan. 4th, 1836. 
'' Dear Brother, 

'^My health has improved, but not so much as I 
had hoped. The doctor does not think that I shall 
be able to preach with safety before the return of 
warm weather. He doubts also the propriety of my 
attempting, at present, to reside among my people 
and perform a part of ministerial duty. He thinks 
that it must expose me to more anxiety and excite- 
ment than I can bear. My friends seem to have 
formed the same opinion independently of his, and 
to be even more decided. Under these circumstan- 
ces I shall probably think it my duty immediately to 
ask a dismission, I cannot think of remaining with 
my people to their permanent harm. It is probable, 
I shall be prepared to send a communication to them 
next Sabbath. It will be a sad thing to me. It will 
be dashing all my hopes for this world. It will be 
tearing my heart from its home. 



70 



LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 



" I know not how I shall bear it. But it seems to 
be duty — and I submit — submit. I trust I shall 
have your prayers and your sympathy. I hope for 
grace and support from above." 

After the contemplated step was taken, and ar- 
rangements had been made, for an ecclesiastical dis- 
mission, he writes as follows, to the friend and 
correspondent in Boston, mentioned above : — 

** Bedford, Feb. 1st, 1836. 
<<Dear Sir, 

*^I hasten to acknowledge the reception of a let- 
ter from you by the last mail. 

*' I acknowledge, also, with deep emotions, your 
generosity. I thank you for the enclosed donation. 
I thank you still more for the spirit it manifests, and 
for the spirit which the whole letter breathes, — the 
same which has animated all your letters to me, and 
which has often been to me as a soft, balmy air upon 
a fevered cheek. I think I duly appreciate the feel- 
ings of the people. I have never doubted their affec- 
tion and confidence. Had it been otherwise, the 
measure which I have taken would have been com- 
paratively easy. As it is, it has cost me a sacrifice 
of feeling, which I cannot expect any one will fully 
understand. No event of my life, except the death 
of my father, has ever affected my sensibilities so 
tenderly and so deeply. It seemed for a considerable 
time, that I must sink under it. It was after a long 
and painful conflict, that I persuaded myself to give 
my heart to this people, and to their service in the 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 71 

ministry of the gospel ; and now I have found it no 
light thing to tear my heart away again. I acted, 
however, in either case, from a strong sense of duty, 
and have not since siiflfered any regrets, or felt any 
misgivings. Indeed, by the kindness of God, I have 
been happily sustained ; and I am surprised to find 
that my health endures so well. What is before me 
now, I know not. The hope of gaining my health 
is plainly rebuked. I must bear up against a strong 
and decidedly expressed public sentiment. Yet if I 
am able to endure the affecting scenes which remain 
as attendant on a regular and final separation from 
my people, I shall presume to hope, that the work 
of recovery may still proceed." 

One desire with regard to his people was still strong 
in his breast. It was to thank them for their patience, 
console them for their disappointment, persuade them 
anew to press forward to heaven, and take his leave 
of them, in a farewell discourse. But his constitu- 
tion was really so infirm, his sensitive spirit had 
suffered so much, in view of the contemplated sep- 
aration, that he was now unequal to the task. He 
began to write, but crippled under the effort. The 
last sermon which he had preached to his people, 
was from the words of Jesus, " In the world ye shall 
have tribulation." For this he had chosen the re- 
maining clause of the same verse, '^ Be of good cheer, 
I have overcome the world." He had written nearly 
one half of his discourse, when returning disease 
forbade him to proceed. The unfinished manuscript 
survives. It is a broken shaft ; and stands among 



72 LIFE AND CHARACTER Or 

the select discourses, as a monument to his mem- 
ory. 

The ejfTort which he made to perform this duty, 
and the feelings with which he contemplated his 
failure, are also on record : — 

" Bedford, March 3, 1836. 
*« Dear Brother, 

'* It gives me pain to tell you, what it will give 
you equal, perhaps greater pain to hear, my health 
fails me again, and I am utterly unable to be in 
Boston to preach a farewell discourse to my people 
next Sabbath. Soon after I returned from Boston, 
and as soon as I was a little rested and the excite- 
ment had begun to subside, I found that my health 
had suffered violence, and my strength was reduced. 
I still, however, kept up hope and resolution. There 
were three days of the next week, on each of which 
1 made an effort, and with some success, in preparing 
a discourse, — writing one day and sleeping with 
exhaustion the next. With this process, however, 
I felt satisfied, hard as it was. But at the close of 
the last day, last Friday, I found myself agitated 
and overcome, — weakened and shattered, like a 
ship after a storm. I went early to bed, soon had a 
sick headache, and was not sensible of a moment's 
sleep all night. The next day, I could only sit and 
doze and groan in my chair, and from that time I 
have not been able to add a sentence to my sermon. 
Indeed, I have been unable to do any thing, except 
to read a little in my Bible, — just enough to keep 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 73 

the soul steady and steadfast. Yesterday morning, 
I felt a little better, and thinking that possibly it 
were not yet too late, I ^ girded up ' to a desperate 
effort ; but it was all in vain ! A haze came over 
my mind, — the symptoms of disease came up, — 
and I floundered and sunk ! Last night, I scarcely 
slept an hour all night, and to-day I am in constant 
disquietude. This is another sad disappointment, 
— a severe stroke from the chastening rod of my 
heavenly Father, — it prolongs and darkens the 
mystery of his providence. But it is right^ — it is 
good, — I make no complaint." 

Mr. Stearns spent the remaining weeks of the 
cold weather, after his dismission^ at Bedford. The 
excitement which preceded and the exhaustion 
which followed that event, to one constituted and 
circumstanced as he was, were great. He had been 
for many years looking forward to the ministry as 
the principal object for which his life was desirable ; 
he had trained himself, diligently, for its noble em- 
ployments ; he had at last entered upon the active 
duties of the pastoral office. The accepted station 
was as well adapted to the peculiarities of his mind 
and constitution, as any he could ever hope to fill ; 
the probabilities that he could sustain it and glorify 
God in it were encouraging ; and it now seemed to 
him that the ends of his existence were about to be 
accomplished. When he made up his mind to ask 
a dismission from his people, he knew that, to all 
human appearance, the prospect of usefulness in his 
chosen occupation was at an end. He had reason to 

VOL. I. 7 



74 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

fear, that henceforth he must be a burden rather 
than a blessmg to society, and linger on, perhaps in 
a state of bodily and mental languishment, to which 
death itself would be preferable. The effects of this 
new affliction, however, were less injurious than 
might have been expected. After a few weeks, 
strength returned, the process of recovery went 
slowly on, and strange as it may now seem, he was 
soon sustained, as he characteristically had been 
from youth, with the sentiment^ that he should yet 
rise above disease, and '^ be useful for a little season 
in the world." 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 75 



CHAPTER VI. 

JOURNEY TO WASHINGTON- — VOYAGE TO EUROPE — FOREIGN 
TRAVELS. 

In the spring, Mr. Stearns visited Washington, and 
made an excursion from thence to Mount Vernon. 

*^ All the exterior of the government," he writes, 
'^is imposing. It is calculated to inspire an Amer- 
ican's heart with patriotic pride ; to raise it with 
hope. But all within, all besides, disappoints, dis- 
gusts, sickens you with distrust and horrifies you 
with dread, and makes you turn away with loathing 
and heart-sinking. We made a pleasant excursion 
to Mount Vernon, and felt that the lowly, narrow, 
decaying receptacle of the dead could inspire us 
with more awe, reverence and satisfaction, than all 
the magnificence and parade of the living." 

On his return, he began to deliberate seriously 
upon a subject which he had often contemplated be- 
fore, the propriety, in his case, of a voyage to Europe. 
To this undertaking he had been repeatedly advised, 
by many friends, and some physicians ; and at this 
time providential circumstances seemed to point that 
way. 

His own feelings are thus sketched on a loose leaf 
found among his papers since his death : — 



76 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 



PROS. AND CONS. TOYAGE TO EUROPE. 

'^ 1. Have five or six months' time on my hands ; 
how shall I best use it ? 

^^2. My prime object now is and must be to re- 
gain my heahh. By what means am I most likely 
to do it ? 

^' 3. Have an intellectual, moral, religious and 
ministerial reputation to sustain. How shall I best 
promote real worth of character, and secure public 
confidence and the confidence of my friends? 

^^ 4. Have long had a strong desire to visit Europe 
sometime, though I have not expected or desired to 
do it at present. When can I do it best ? Have 
now no business, no family, no parish. 

'^ 5. How shall I best dissipate my present mor- 
bid feelings, and produce a healthful state of sen- 
sibilities? 

'^ 6. My active energies are weakened and de- 
pressed. How shall I best revive them, and bring 
myself into a fit state for the active duties of life ? 

'^7. Have been very long and for many years of 
a peculiar and diseased state of body and mind, — 
have tried almost every remedy on a small scale. 
Ought I not now, if possible, to make some entirely 
new, bolder and more decisive experiment? 

*^ These suggestions and inquiries thus far, rather 
bear in favor of going. So 1 think do the providen- 
ces of God, and the involuntary tendencies of my 
own mind. 

^^ But, 1. I shall not have so much time, and be 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 77 

able to travel so extensively, as I had hoped for, 
whenever I should visit Europe. 

^^2. I have not the established character which I 
would like to carry with me, nor those habits of 
efficient exertion, nor that acquaintance with men 
and places and things. 

^* 3. I am not certain that this would be the best 
course for mental and moral discipline, and best fit 
me for habitual, active labor and usefulness." 

After much deliberation and prayer, the path of 
duty became, as he thought, plain. Accordingly, 
having committed the voyage to him who rules the 
winds and waves, and '^ can make us more or less 
comfortable at his pleasure," he set sail from New 
York, in company with Professor Stovve of Cincin- 
nati, on board the packet ship Montreal, for London, 
June 8th, 1836. 

With this devoted Christian scholar, with whom 
he had been a class-mate at the seminary in Ando- 
ver, he travelled through the season. 

Mr. Stearns took pencil notes each day, of all that 
was most interesting to his mind in England, Scot- 
land and Germany. 

In the autumn, after parting company with Mr. 
Stowe, who returned to America, he pursued the 
same practice of sketching daily, with the pen, and, 
his health increasing, wrote out many scenes of 
interest. Had he lived to revisit his native country, 
he would probably have prepared from these abun- 
dant materials (sufficient in their present state for 

two moderate sized duodecimos) one or more vol- 
7* 



78 



LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 



umes of travels. This may be a suitable place to 
mention, that, in a farewell letter written to his 
friends in America, a short time before his death, 
Mr. Stearns requested that his note books should 
never, in any form, be given to the press. The 
reason is obvious. ^^ They are so crude, — so un- 
designed, — sketched, not written, generally in great 
weariness and pain, and merely to assist memory." 
A few extracts, however, which seem to have been 
written with considerable fulness, and which help 
to ilkistrate character, and show the intense interest 
which he took in the objects, scenes, and associa- 
tions of the Old World, will be given. There are, 
also, many letters which were sent to America by 
him, during these travels, from which our limits 
will allow us but sparingly to draw : — 

"Poole, Dorsetshire, July 1, 1836. 
"My dear Brother, 

'^ You may perhaps conceive, but I cannot de- 
scribe to you, the peculiar sensations, the tumultuous, 
successive, wavelike emotions, with which I sit 
down to address you from the shores of Old Eng- 
land ; knowing that more than three thousand miles 
of wild ocean are between us, and not knowing, 
scarcely believing, that this sheet will be wafted 
across the deep waters, and be borne to your doors. 

'^ Through the kind providence of our heavenly 
Father, we floated safely over the waves, and were 
landed at our destined port on Wednesday after- 
noon, — twenty days from New York. The voy- 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 79 

age was, on the whole, prosperous, and rather quick, 
though the weather was uncommonly tempestuous 
for the season. After leaving the Gulf Stream, the 
region of squalls, where the ship was every day 
drenched by a squall of rain, and sometimes kept 
wet for the whole day, and when we were just past 
the Grand Bank, we encountered a pretty severe 
gale. It commenced with a squall of rain, on Sat- 
urday afternoon, — ten days out. The clouds, col- 
lecting and thickening with almost every shade of 
darkness, and involving themselves into each other, 
rolled fiercely over the sky, giving the whole heav- 
ens a most wild and threatening aspect, while the 
waters below, as if agitated by some deep passion 
or fell purpose, swelled broad and full from their 
depths, and dashed up on their surface their short, 
quick, splashing waves, in unwonted confusion. 
At the same time, the wind, growing stronger and 
stronger, rushed boldly on, driving our strained and 
creaking vessel along its foaming path, with an al- 
most fearful rapidity. All the elements seemed as 
if summoning their energies, and preparing with 
collected might, for some untold and awful contest. 
As the night came on, the ocean grew more wild 
and fiery. Every cresting wave seemed a flash of 
light ; while the mass of water around assumed a 
deeper and still deeper blackness. It was a thun- 
der-cloud condensed into thick waters beneath our 
feet. The sparkUng of the ocean, along the sides 
and foaming track of the ship, was unusually bril- 
liant, and gave the appearance of the galaxy or 



80 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

milky-way on either side of us, as you have seen it 
in the heavens, on some very bright night in win- 
ter ; as if the stars and constellations of stars had 
left their place in the skies, (which were now 
darkened,) and were rolling in all their splendor in 
the waters below. Along this splendid path our 
gallant ship glided before the wave, which rose 
with ever-increasing majesty, and seemed rushing 
to overwhelm us. On deck the scene was scarcely 
less appalling. Nothing was heard amidst the noise 
of the storm, save the straining of planks and spars, 
the snapping of sails and slipping of cordage, the 
sailors' laboring cry, and the deep, sepulchral tones 
of the captain's voice issuing his peremptory com- 
mands, in sounds which seemed unearthly. And 
no human forms were seen but those of the sailors 
themselves, who, in their peculiar dress, flitting 
from side to side of the ship across a dim light, or 
silently, and in long trains ascending the ropes, or 
hanging upon the yards, gave you, in spite of your- 
self, the impression of spectres, rather than of men. 
Nearly all the sails were taken in, and all made fast 
and snug, and soon we rolled as safely, though not 
as comfortably on, as if all were mild and gentle as 
the zephyrs. We had nothing to fear, and though 
most of our company were awed, but few were 
alarmed. Still the tossing, and rolling, and plung- 
ing of the ship made it almost impossible for any 
one to rest in his berth. About midnight I lay 
down, and kept my couch till morning. The wind 
increased during the night. When I rose, the 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 81 

clouds had disappeared, the sky was clear, and the 
sun bright ; but the wind still continued, and the 
ocean presented a scene as new and strange as it 
was grand. It was Sabbath morning ; and it 
seemed as if the Lord of the Sabbath was before 
us, in his majesty, bidding us behold his power and 
adore. After dinner I cUmbed upon the storm- 
house, and binding my hair with my handkerchief, 
and fastening myself with a firm hold upon the 
rigging, stood there, for an hour, to gaze in silent 
and solemn meditation on the scene around me. It 
was the hour of public worship in the land which 
I had left, and you may well suppose that I sent 
many a thought, and many an eager look over the 
mountain wave, to the villages and cities where my 
friends were gathering together, on a calm sum- 
mer's morning, to worship him who is the God of 
the sea as well as of the dry land. I watched the 
waves as they rose and swelled, and stood up like 
mountains, intercepting every distant view, and 
rolling on as if to overwhelm us, and then sinking 
harmlessly away again, giving place to others as 
imposing, as powerful, as appalling as themselves. 
I had seen nothing like it ; and you can form the 
best idea of it, by supposing the mountains of our 
own beloved land, and over which we have trav- 
elled, day after day, in peril, had become liquid, 
and, moving from their foundations, were rolling 
about with ever-changing forms, in wild disorder. 
And here our little bark rose, and fell, and struggled 
on, like a weary bird with half-folded wing, borne 



82 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

down and almost overwhelmed by the unrelenting 
fury of the tempest. It struggled on, more faithful 
to its trust, than ungrateful man to his God. It 
struggled on, outlabored and outlived the gale, and 
all was safe within. The weather still continued 
rough, and in a few days more we had nearly a 
repetition of the same scene. Each was sublime, 
— was grand, — was awfully magnificent. This 
tempestuous weather, which is quite uncommon at 
this season of the year, made our passage both 
wearisome and sickening ; and yet it will always 
be remembered with the most pleasing recollections. 
Of the inhabitants of the deep we saw nothing 
very wonderful, — a few porpoises and grampuses, 
a shark, two or three whales, a flying fish, a few 
sea gulls, and a multitude of mother Gary's chickens. 
^* I wish I could now give you an account of the 
first appearance of land, of English landscape, as it 
first rose to my eye, — beautiful and lovely, beyond 
all the charms in which my fancy had ever arrayed 
it. But I must refrain, and only say, we landed at 
Portsmouth, and the next day took a packet and 
came directly to this place." 

*' London, July 12, 1836. 
*< My dear Brother, 

** Although my health is considerably improved, 
especially in vigor and power of endurance, and the 
prospect of recovery quite encouraging, I am yet 
far enough removed from the freedom, and buoyan- 
cy, and activity of one who bears about with him 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 83 

no disease. This keeps me continually under re- 
straint ; and when I have a few moments' leisure, 
and would seize the opportunity to sketch a descrip- 
tion, and fasten my fleeting thoughts, or write a 
letter to those whom I love, and who, though far 
away, are ever in my mind's eye, I am obliged 
rather to throw myself on my bed, to compose my 
nerves and recruit my exhausted strength. I must, 
therefore, content myself, and my friends will, I 
hope, be contented, with only a hurried, common- 
place notice of my route, and of some things which 
come under my observation. 

** We landed at Portsmouth on the 28th of June. 
Our passage for two or three days previous, though 
very slow, was extremely interesting. The first 
land which we distinctly saw was of the beautiful 
county of Devonshire. Its velvet lawns, and green 
hedges, and fields of corn, — its cottages and farm- 
houses, its palaces, and castles, and venerable 
churches, were all clearly seen through the glass, 
and became more and more visible to the naked 
eye. As we advanced, the country became still 
more interesting, and nothing can exceed the beauty, 
the fascination, the charm, the power of the scenery 
around us as we entered, by the Needles, the nar- 
row channel of the Isle of Wight. It would have 
been very important for me if I could have rested 
a little at Portsmouth, but the excitement of the two 
preceding days had raised the waves of emotion too 
high to subside in a single night, while other ex- 
citing influences hurrying on, only quickened their 



84 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

impetuosity, and caused them to break with un- 
wonted violence and confusion. You may conceive, 
but I cannot now describe, the nervous step, the 
gUstening, half-frenzied eye, the quick, explosive 
tones of exclamation, the tumult of thought and 
feehng with which we promenaded and explored 
the town, before we could lay ourselves down on 
our beds. And then there was no sleep for our 
eyes. The morning came, and we saw its light, 
and rose from our fevered couch only to be driven 
again by the same spirit. A packet was going that 
day, at eleven o'clock, to Poole, where my friend 
had purposed to make a visit and prepare for his 
intended tour. Another such opportunity might 
not occur for a week, and we were constrained to 
avail ourselves of it. But we must first take a hasty 
view of this far-famed naval port, and of the ship- 
ping in the harbor, and visit at least one noble ship 
of England's boast and England's power, one proud 
man-of-war — the Britannica — which is just fitting 
out for a cruise in the east, and is, probably, 
designed to keep in check the extending dominion 
of the ambitious and powerful Russian. It is, in- 
deed, a grand affair, and worthy of ^the mistress 
of the seas.' We were soon, with all our luggage, 
on board the little ' hoy,' which was to take us to 
Poole, and were floating back through the same 
channel along which we had sailed so gaily the day 
before. But most unfortunately for us, and distress- 
ingly at variance with the condition of our nerves, 
the winds subsided much faster than our agitated 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 85 



% 



spirits, and soon fell away into a perfect calm, leav- 
ing all deadly still without, while nothing was quiet 
and at rest within. About the middle of the after- 
noon we were obliged to come to anchor ; we, 
however, engaged two of the men to get out the 
boat and row us ashore, and we made a very pleas- 
ant excursion for an hour or two upon the Isle of 
Wight, at Yarmouth. It is a very old town, con- 
taining about one thousand inhabitants — a rotten 
borough ; and formerly sent two members to Par- 
liament. The country around is highly cultivated 
and very beautiful. The cottages are compactly 
built, are of stone and thatch, and surrounded, and 
almost enveloped with flowers and vines. Here is 
a curious antique church, and a very rich and beau- 
tiful parsonage, where one of a noble family resides, 
as rector, upon a rich living, and a generous pension. 
His mansion and grounds are delightful as an earthly 
residence can be, and in striking contrast with the 
more humble cottage, and narrow, though neat and 
flowery enclosure of his worthy and more laborious 
curate. At nightfall we rowed back to the ' hoy,' 
and waited for the tide, on which we soon floated, and 
floated very, very quietly, all night, and till eight 
o'clock the next morning, when we again stood on ter- 
ra firma, and soon found ourselves comfortably lodged 
in a convenient inn at Poole. This, in its present 
character, is comparatively a new town, and owes 
its growth principally to the Newfoundland trade. 
It is more like an American town than any I have 
seen in England. The business, however, is on the 

VOL. I. 8 



86 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

decline, and though there is much wealth here, 
there is very little enterprise and activity. It is 
still, almost to dulness ; but it is a well-ordered and 
moral place, and has much good society, very intel- 
ligent, very hospitable, very sympathetic and kind. 
I shall always remember the few days which I spent 
here with soothing and grateful pleasure." 

" London, July 12, 1836. 
'* Mr DEAR Brother, 

^^ I rose early, to enjoy the hallowed hour of 
devotion. It was my first Sabbath in a foreign land, 
and a delightful morning it was. The sky was 
clear, and the air was fresh and balmy. I walked 
beyond the closely-built houses of the town, now 
closed in silence on their slumbering inhabitants, to 
spend those halcyon moments among cottages and 
gardens and fields and hedges, all bright with the 
morning sun and fresh with the dew of heaven, to 
be regaled with views as beautiful as they were new, 
with the fragrance of flo\vers I had never before 
seen, and the music of birds whose notes had never 
before struck my ear and thrilled my heart. When 
I had reached the top of a broad, swelling, verdant 
hill, about one mile and a half from the town, I took 
my position upon the top of a hedge bank. The 
town and the harbor were before me, and all around 
were the neat, white-washed, straw-thatched cot- 
tages, and blooming gardens and velvet-like fields, 
enclosed with green and flowering hedges, and 
shaded with deep-verdant trees, and enlivened with 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 87 

gay birds, who alone of all animated beings seemed, 
with inanimate nature, to have caught the spirit of 
the morning, and to be sympathizing and vieing 
with each other in the worship of their Maker. I 
had not stood there long before I enjoyed the prin- 
cipal object of my search. It was the morning lark, 
rising and singing towards heaven, — just as Jeremy 
Taylor has so beautifully described it to our imag- 
inations. I could not have had a better exhibition 
of it. It satisfied and more than satisfied my pre- 
vious and most pleasing conceptions of it. I saw 
one rise, and watched its ascent and listened to its 
song, till it was entirely above and beyond my sight. 
I could only hear its note, more soft, more sweet as 
it was nearer the home of the blest and the object of 
its praise, the throne of its God. I could think of 
nothing but of some returning angel, or of some 
sainted spirit released from its service below and 
springing from the earth, gaily ascending higher and 
higher, singing more and more joyously, and resting 
not from its song or its flight till it folds its wing 
and rests its foot by the throne of him who made it. 
I could still hear its note, and still I gazed after it, 
and presently discerned its form, and saw it descend ; 
but its descent was, if possible, more beautiful than 
its ascent. It returned to earth with such a graceful 
and easy motion, it seemed as if conscious that it 
could at any time rise again. I did not intend to 
give you any description of this hour and of this 
scene, and you can have no idea of it now. It was 
altogether the happiest hour I have enjoyed since I 



88 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

left my native land. I returned to my lodgings sat- 
isfied, — filled, — and feeling as if I had had a 
glimpse, and caught a note, of heaven. 

^^ It was pleasant when the time of public worship 
came, to meet once more with Christian worshippers 
in a Christian sanctuary, though the house was 
strange and the assembly unknown, and these 
Christian worshippers were born of the flesh and 
born of the Spirit, in a land which till now I had 



" London, July 13, 1836. 
*^ My dear Brother, 

'^ The place from which I now write, and where, 
to accommodate my companion, we have for the 
present taken lodgings, though not one of the most 
fashionable parts of the city, may be considered as 
quite classical ground. The Inn is made famous by 
Addison in one of his Nos. of the Spectator. Just 
by us is the street called Old Bailey, where, in a 
house over Breakneck-stairs, Oliver Goldsmith wrote 
his Vicar of Wakefield. A little below us is Fleet 
street, where Johnson resided and wrote his big 
dictionary. A few rods in another direction brings 
us to Bread Street, where Milton was born. Not 
far from us is East-Cheap, in which stood the Boar's- 
Head tavern, well known to the readers of Shak- 
speare as the residence of Mrs. duickly, and the 
scene of Falstafl''s merriment. Directly north of us, 
is Smithfield, the place in former times, of execu- 
tions and martydoms, and made sacred by the blood 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 89 

of John Rodgers. Within a stone's throw is New- 
gate, and directly before, as we enter the street, is 
that noblest of all structures, except St. Peter's 
church at Rome, St. Paul's cathedral, which 1 walk 
around and gaze upon, every morning before break- 
fast. Indeed every part of London, and almost 
every part of England, is full of interest. It is rich 
in monuments of art and historical associations. We 
were detained from London nearly a fortnight after 
our arrival in Portsmouth, by a visit to Poole and 
neighboring places. We left Poole a week ago last 
evening, taking a stage-coach for Salisbury. With 
the exception of two or three old villages and a few 
noblemen's palaces, we observed nothing of interest 
on this route — most of the country was very barren, 
a mere heath. English stage-coaches, however, are 
very pleasant vehicles, and go very rapidly, and we 
made the journey of more than thirty miles, without 
weariness, in less than four hours. As we approach 
Salisbury the country becomes better ; but a heavy 
thunder shower drove us inside of the coach, and 
prevented our seeing much of it. We had antici- 
pated a fine view of the town and of its noble 
cathedral. I do not know, however, that on the 
whole we lost much, in this respect. The evening 
grew dark, the thunder roared, the rain poured down 
in floods, the lightning flashed, and the whole scene 
was truly sublime. Presently a flash of lightning 
gave us the first view of the lofty spire of one of 
the most magnificent structures in the world. As 
we rolled along under the dark cloud, amidst torrents 
8* 



90 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

of rain, we every now and then through the win- 
dow caught a glimpse, by the thunder-flash, of 
this grand cathedral. The next morning the tem- 
pest had passed away, and all was bright and clear. 
I rose early, and walked directly towards the object 
of my admiration. I had often read of it, and had 
long cherished the idea of it as one of the finest 
specimens of architecture, and of the noblest monu- 
ments of human art. As I approached it, and now 
saw it actually standing before my eyes, surrounded 
with venerable elms, and with its tall spire piercing 
the skies, an indescribable feeling of awe and delight 
came over me. I stopped, stood still, and felt a 
trembling through all my limbs, a thrill through 
every nerve. As soon as I had recovered myself, I 
walked nearer, and viewed it again and again in 
every possible position, and always with undimin- 
ished satisfaction. It is perfect in its kind, nothing 
wanting, and nothing superfluous. I walked around 
the entire enclosure of many acres before I could 
return to breakfast. After breakfast we went to 
visit it throughout and examine it more thoroughly. 
The entire building is four hundred and seventy- 
eight feet in length ; the tower and spire is four 
hundred and ten feet in height. The building is of 
the later Gothic style, and perfectly symmetrical. 
It is cruciform, and the transept is two hundred and 
ten feet. The interior consists of a nave and choir 
and side aisles, transept, chancel and lady chapel. 
The roof is supported by pillars of Purbec marble. 
On the great window of the choir is a picture of the 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 91 

serpent lifted up in the wilderness, and on the win- 
dow of lady chapel is a superb painting of Christ's 
resurrection. There is a grand cloister connected 
with the building, and the whole cathedral is orna- 
mented and enriched with many curious and beau- 
tiful monuments of the dead. But I will perhaps 
give you a description hereafter. I cannot do it 
now. We attended a morning service in the choir, 
and then hastened away, and securing the first horse 
and gig we could obtain, we rode nine miles over 
Salisbury plain to Stonehenge. The drive was 
delightful. On every side was a wide extending pros- 
pect of wheat-fields, and downs, and barren heath. 
I could also count from a single point ten or twelve 
large flocks of sheep feeding on the plains, guarded 
by shepherds and shepherd dogs. Besides these, 
with a few small birds and innumerous rooks, no 
other living beings were to be seen. A mile and a 
half from Salisbury is old Sarum, the original settle- 
ment, and five miles further on, in a small verdant 
valley, lies the town of Amesbury. Near it stands 
the old mansion of the Earl of Queensbury, the patron 
of Gay the poet. As we rode on, we soon saw and 
recognized the object of our visit standing in a 
solitary garden on a broad, almost boundless plain. 
It is simple, unique, and its effect is wonderful. It 
fills the whole soul — and satisfies and expands. 
Stonehenge consists of the remains of an ancient 
druidical temple, composed of single large upright 
stones, with similar ones lying horizontally upon 
them. There were several other objects of interest 



92 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

in Salisbury, but I cannot notice them now. I left 
the place next morning, with many a longing, lin- 
gering look behind. But it abates a great deal from 
the pleasure I might here enjoy, that I have so little 
time and so little strength, and so much disease 
(although I am considerably better), and am neces- 
sarily kept in a constant hurry and fatigue. When 
you have finished well your collegiate and profes- 
sional education,* and perhaps become settled in life, 
and acquired the means, I hope you will be able to 
visit the old world at your leisure, and spend a year 
or so. You will find enough to occupy you, and 
if you have time and money and health, and a well- 
disciplined mind, it will be both pleasant and profit- 
able. I forgot to say that with much labor I beat 
off a few very small fragments from the pillars of 
Stonehenge — which I hope may one day find a 
resting-place in your cabinet." 

" London, July 16, 1836. 
** My dear Sister, 

^^ There are so many things which it seems 
almost necessary for one to see and hear, that with 
the fatigues and cares of journeying, I am kept in 
almost constant excitement and weariness. Perhaps 
I ought and I hope I shall be able to moderate my 
desires, and control myself a little more, as I become 
more accustomed to these exciting scenes. It is very 



Mr. Stearns had several brothers ; this letter was addressed to 
the youngest. 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 93 

important for any one, and especially for an invalid 
among strangers and in a foreign land, to have some 
agreeable and confidential friend for a companion. 
In this respect 1 find myself much favored. And yet 
it cannot be expected that our desires and tastes and 
business will always incline us in the same direction. 
The power of early associations is very great, and I 
was so desirous of visiting scenes which have long 
interested my imagination and heart, and of making 
an excursion upon the Isle of Wight before leaving 
the south part of England, that my friend and I 
parted company for a few days, he taking a coach 
at Salisbury for London, by the shortest route, and 
I, in an hour afterwards, taking another coach for 
Southampton. It was the first time that I had found 
myself entirely alone, among strangers in a strange 
land ; but the day was fine, and being well accommo- 
dated with a good box-seat, and making interest with 
the coachman, 1 secured his attentions, and was well 
entertained by his pointing out to me every object 
worthy of observation on the route. We passed 
several noblemen's seats, and had some fine views of 
the surrounding country. On arriving at Southamp- 
ton, as soon as I could secure my luggage and get 
some refreshment, 1 took a steamboat for Cowes, on 
the Isle of Wight. We had a delightful sail down 
the river and bay and across the channel, and at 
Cowes I took a stage-coach for Newport. My first 
object here, after securing lodgings for the night, was 
to engage a conveyance and make arrangements for 
my intended excursion the next day. Having sue- 



94 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

ceeded in this, just at night I took a walk of a niile 
over a hill, which commands a very extensive and 
most delightful prospect, to Carisbrook castle, where 
king Charles the first was confined, the ruins of 
which are now in excellent preservation. It is a 
very romantic spot, and associated with a good many 
interesting historical recollections. The next morn- 
ing I rose early, and with a little pony and gig, and 
a boy for a guide, I set oflF at six o'clock for the in- 
terior and eastern part of the island. 

^^ The island is every where cultivated in the 
highest degree, and this part especially is covered 
with neat cottages and gardens, with rich farm- 
houses, and wheat-fields all enclosed with beautiful 
green hedges, and, rising into broad swelling hills 
and then sweeping away into rich verdant valleys, 
it looks more like a paradise than an earthly abode 
of trial and sorrow and toil. We rode on or through 
this beautiful garden, regaled with fragrance and 
music and loveliness, six miles, till we came to the 
village of Arreton. Just by the old church, I told 
the boy to stop and stand by the pony, while I 
walked up to the church-yard. Instantly some half 
dozen little white-haired boys and girls rushed out 
of the neighboring cottages, and ran to open the 
church-yard gate, vieing with each other in their 
attentions to the stranger, hoping, I suppose, to 
secure his notice in return, and to receive a penny. 
A very little boy, apparently more intelligent than 
the rest, was foremost, and instantly throwing his 
arms around a plain monumental slab, ' Here lies the 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 95 

Dairyman's Daughter, sir,' he exclaimed, — ^ and 
here's her sister,' exclaimed half a dozen voices at 
once, — *and there's her brother, and here's her 
father and mother, and that's her grandmother's 
grave.' I felt that I was on hallowed ground, 'just 
by the verge of heaven,' and would have been glad 
to have been alone, to indulge my feelings in silence 
and without interruption. 

''It was early morning, — the dew still lay upon 
the grass, and its drops were sparkling in the sun. 
We stood upon the north side of the venerable old 
church, which threw its shade just far enough to 
embrace in its shadow the few graves around us, and 
to cast a soft, transparent veil over the resting-place 
of the sainted ' Daughter,' and her happy family. 
To secure silence and disguise my feelings, I took 
my pencil, and began to copy the inscription: 'To 
the memory of Elizabeth Waldron, "the Dairyman's 
Daughter," who died May 30, 1801, aged 31 years. 
She being dead yet speaketh,' &c. &c. &c., — a long 
inscription which I did not copy. By the side of 
her's is a smaller monument : ' Sacred to the memory 
of Hannah, daughter of Elizabeth and William Wal- 
dron, who departed this life Jan. 14, 1800, in the 
27th year of her age.' There were no monuments, 
but simple mounds of earth, to indicate where the 
rest of the family repose. Though it was a quiet 
and retired place, the spot on which we stood was 
much footworn, and evinced that though the humble 
daughter of a poor dairyman has slumbered here, in 
silence, for more than thirty years, her grave is not 



96 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

unknown, forgotten or unnoticed. 'And do stran- 
gers often visit this spot ? ' asked I. ' O, yes, sir, a 
great many.' * And why, do you think, they come 
here to see this grave 7 It is because Elizabeth was 
so good and died so happy, — is it not ? ' — So taking 
this for my text, I preached to my Httle audience a 
short sermon, and then dropping a penny or two into 
the hand of him who * did outrun ' the others, and 
* was first at the sepulchre,' I bid them good-bye 
and turned away. ' But where,' I called, recollect- 
ing myself, 'where did the Dairyman's Daughter 
live ? ' ' Out there, sir, on hill-common, — that is the 
way.' So seating myself again in the gig, I bade my 
guide take the direction of hill-common. We rode 
down a narrow valley and over a small stream, and 
then up a long, swelling, gently-ascending hill, 
which became more and more like a broad plain. 
Along its sides and on its top were several neat cot- 
tages, and all the way beautiful hedges and fields. 
I could not but recollect, that by this very path a 
funeral procession had once and again wound, slowly 
and sadly and quietly and with heavenly hopes, to 
the old church and church-yard which I had just 
left. I looked back and saw both the church and 
church-yard, and the little surrounding village, — all 
still visible among the venerable old trees, which 
partly overshadowed and obscured them. I looked 
around me, — and looked onward, and seemed to see 
that same procession moving down the road, and I 
caught at once their thoughts and feelings, — and all 
the vision of that scene was, for the moment, a dis- 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 97 

tinct reality. About a mile and a half from the 
church I saw a pretty white-washed cottage, sur- 
rounded by well-kept fields, and a small garden, and 
shaded with trees. I could not but recognise it, as 
the very place where the dairyman and his daughter 
once lived. As I alighted from my gig, and stepped 
over the stile, and moved towards this attractive 
dwelling, a blooming young girl of perhaps seven- 
teen or eighteen years, and of simple rustic manners, 
came out to open the wicket gate. ^ Was this the 
residence of the Dairyman's Daughter ? ' I inquired. 
*Yes, sir; my grandmother lives here now, the 
widow of Elizabeth's brother, — walk in, sir, and I 
will call her.' Directly as I entered the cottage, a 
sorrowful-looking, broken-spirited, care-worn old 
woman made her appearance, courtesying very 
humbly, and seeming ready to answer any inquiries 
which I might be pleased to make. ' Good morn- 
ing, ma'am,' I said, — ^I have called to see the 
place where the Dairyman's Daughter lived, — this 
is the place, is it ma'am ? ' ^ Yes, sir, this is the 
place ; she lived here with her father and mother. 
My husband was her brother, — poor, dear man ; he 
suffered every thing almost before he died. But he 
is gone, sir, and they have all gone, and we must 
go soon,' — and she sighed bitterly. A few kind, 
calm words, however, seemed to compose her and 
give her assurance ; and then she related to me all 
the particulars of the family which she supposed 
might be interesting to a stranger. There is one 
brother, Robert, still living, who resides at Newport, 

VOL. I. 9 



98 



LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 



and who is not, 1 suppose, in a very prosperous con- 
dition. The widow of WilHam, who now-occupies 
the cottage, has a daughter and grand-daughter 
living with her, and I think, her daughter's husband. 
They still depend on the dairy^ for a subsistence, 
and have two cows and five acres of land. 1 cannot 
tell you why it was, but 1 stood and looked over the 
hedge and gazed on those cows with indescribable 
interest. The daughter and grand-daughter were 
engaged that morning in managing their little dairy, 
and were making butter. If I had leisure, I could 
give you, from memory, an exact drawing of the 
cottage and yards and gardens around it, — but I 
must defer this till, if it pleases God, I am permitted 
to see you, and sit and talk with you again by the 
family fireside, and under the paternal roof. Every 
thing about the cottage was neat as a dairy-room. 
On my right, as I sat opposite the open door, was 
the fire-place, filled with fresh boughs and ever- 
greens, — over it was suspended an engraved portrait 
of Rev. Legh Richmond, — ^ the dear, good man, if 
ever there was one,' as the old lady called him. On 
a small table behind me, with two or three other 
books, lay a Bible. As I turned around and caught 
a glimpse of it, I said instantly, and I know not 
why, ' Is that Elizabeth's Bible ? ' ' Yes, sir, that 
is her Bible, and there,' opening and bringing it to 
me to look at, * there is her name written by her 
own hand, the only specimen of her hand-writing 
which we have.' 'And does this staircase,' said I, 
pointing to a door and flight of stairs on my left, in 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 99 

a corner of the room, Mead to her chamber — and 
may I walk up?' 'Yes, sir, — O yes sir, — but 
you will jfind it in much disorder. We have had a 
mason at work there, but you may look up.' I 
ascended the stairs and looked around. I could not 
tell what the mason had done, or was doing, but it 
was just the chamber which is described in the 
Tract, and looked as if its long since departed occu- 
pant had left it but yesterday. The walls were 
white-washed, and the floor was washed white. 
There was the window, the only window in the 
chamber, — and through which the setting sun had 
looked in upon the dying child of heaven, — and 
there was her bed where she lay, and from which 
her spirit took its upward fight, — all just as you 
would imagine it. Before the cottage are two or 
three small elms, which the Tract I think has called 
a vine ; but they answer very well to the description, 
and every thing is in exact accordance with the 
picture. 

'^ Before I left the cottage, the good woman brought 
me an album, in which visiters, ' if they please^'' 
inscribe their names. I ran it over, and among other 
familiar names, I observed with a thrill of delight, 
* Samuel Green, Boston, U. S.,' and • H. Humphrey, 
Amherst, Mass., United States.' It made me feel as 
if I were at home, and yet on doubly hallowed 
ground, and I could not refuse to add my own hum- 
ble name. 

*' As I was coming away, I could not but throw 
some pittance into the withered hand, and plucking 



100 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

a rose-bud from the garden hedge, and a white daisy 
from the ground, I bade farewell to the widowed 
occupant of the Dairyman's cottage, and rode on, 
with many ^a lingering look behind,' and a bosom 
swelling with emotion, to a spot scarcely second in 
interest to this ; to the place where lived and preached 
and prayed and toiled, with delight in his Master's 
service, that holy and beloved one, by whom the 
Dairyman's daughter, ^ though dead, yet speaketh.' 
About six miles further, and we came to Brading. 
It is a small, compact town, closely built, and chiefly 
on one street, which winds through a narrow, but 
fertile valley, and is terminated by a small, pleasant 
harbor. Here I procured some refreshment for my 
pony and guide, and a breakfast for myself, and then 
walked out to see the church, church-yard and par- 
sonage house, where was, for several years, the scene 
of labor, and the residence of Legh Richmond, who 
had a mind and a heart to give a charm to every 
place, and whose name now gives a charm to every 
thing with which it is associated. The church is a 
a huge old pile, of diflerent styles of Gothic architec- 
ture, and built at different periods. The original is 
said to have been the oldest church on the island. 
It has a large square tower, and a clumsy quadran- 
gular spire. It is built of stone, as all the old Eng- 
lish churches are. It stands upon a pleasant emi- 
nence above the road, at the extremity of the town, 
and is surrounded by a large church-yard thickly set 
with monuments of the dead. Among them, and 
just at the corner of the church, is the unpretending 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 101 

monument of * Little Jane, the Young Cottager,' and 
near it, in front of the parsonage, are the monuments 
from which little Jane learned her first lessons in 
Christian piety. Around her grave, as around the 
Dairyman's Daughter's, the ground is all footworn, 
and the grass is down-trodden, seared and dead, 
beneath the steps of the frequent visiter. Immedi- 
ately behind, and approached by a path leading 
directly through the church-yard, is the parsonage 
house. It is a brick building, of two stories high, 
and two rooms in front, resembling a New England 
house, much more than any other which I have seen. 
On the right of the house is a beautiful and flourish- 
ing garden, — directly in front is a yard or court, 
ornamented with a rich variety of flowers, and on the 
left is an enclosure or avenue, like that on the east 
side of the old parsonage in Andover. All around, 
it is deeply shaded with venerable and verdant trees, 
— and before all, as I have said, are the church-yard 
and church. It commands a fine view of the town 
and valley and neighboring hills, and the harbor. 
Indeed it is one of the most simple, yet picturesque 
and interesting spots which I have seen, in a coun- 
try every where famed for its natural scenery. But 
if we would except the parsonage, there is nothing 
in the town which would strike me as peculiarly 
interesting. I could not help reflecting, how the 
lovely mind of Legh Richmond, viewing it from a 
lovely spot, could throw a fascination and a loveli- 
ness over a scene not otherwise particularly attractive. 
Another mind might have resided here much longer, 
9* 



108 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

and few would have known, and still fewer would 
have admired the humble town and the valley of 
Brading. From a room in the parsonage, a piano 
was sending forth soft notes of sweet and subduing 
music, which might almost have been mistaken for 
the breathings of Richmond's spirit ; and, enchanted 
by the sound, the scene, the place, I lingered here, 
in unremembered musings, till I was in danger of 
spending the time allotted to my visit on the island, 
and of losing the proper opportunity of return. 
Turning from this enchanting place, and calling 
for my pony again, I drove hastily on to Benbridge, 
the extreme point of the island in this direction, 
and connected with Brading as a part of the same 
curate's care. Passing out of Brading, I observed 
at a little distance from the road a small cottage, 
which I had no difficulty in recognizing from de- 
scription, as the earthly home of ' Little Jane/ Of 
my ride, and of the place, I will attempt no descrip- 
tion ; you will find all in Richmond's Tract, — the 
Memoir of the African Convert. It was delightful, 
it was charming, it was almost paradisaical. 

*^ From Benbridge, I returned through Yaverland, 
— where is a small, old church, in which Rich- 
mond commenced his ministry, and preached his 
first sermon as a pastor, — and through Sandown, 
and hurried back to Newport, just in time to take 
some refreshment and secure a passage to Cowes 
and Southampton, where I arrived at a little before 
sunset, and found myself thoroughly exhausted 
with fatigue and excitement, — so exhausted, after 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 



103 



a day of constant, soul-subduing interest, as to suf- 
fer a serious reaction, and fall, for an hour, deeply 
into unmeaning sadness. Tt was, indeed, a long 
hour before I came to myself, so as to rebuke this 
spirit, and then reading a sweet psalm, and offering 
up a short but heartfelt prayer of praise and thanks- 
giving, of confidence and love to my heavenly 
Father, I laid myself quietly down, and slept 
peacefully and delightfully till morning. The next 
day I took the coach for London, and after a pleas- 
ant ride through scenes of unfailing interest and 
instructive entertainment, I arrived here in eight 
hours, and was again in joyful company with my 
friend and travelling companion, Mr. Stowe, who 
had reached the city two days before, and taken 
lodgings for himself and me at this inn." 

<<LoNDON, July 20, 1836. 
" My dear Mother, 

^'Of the outside of things I have seen consider- 
able, and have visited, among other interesting 
objects, the British Museum, Westminster Abbey, 
and St. Paul's church, the Tunnel, under the 
Thames, &c. &c., and have attended one popular 
meeting in Exeter Hall, and spent one eveuing in 
the House of Commons, and but for the rain should 
have spent this evening in the House of Peers. I 
do not think, liowever, that great men here, not- 
withstanding their great titles, are essentially great- 
er than great men in a land where we acknowledge 
neither lords temporal nor lords spiritual. 



104 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

'^ I hope you are all very well and comfortable, 
and though I cannot at present see your face, nor 
hear your voice, I know there is a sympathy of de- 
sires, and I doubt not these desires often mingle 
together before the throne of him who sees and 
hears us both. I love to think of your stated sea- 
sons of devotion, and, making allowance for the 
difference of time, — about four hours, — to join 
with you in the morning and evening sacrifice at 
the family altar. If we are all permitted to meet 
there again in health and comfort, I am sure it will 
be a moment of gratitude and praise. But what is 
before us we know not. Let us not be too anxious 
for the future, and never distrustful of the kind 
providence which has hitherto taken care of us. I 
have been much favored, and preserved from disas- 
ters on my voyage and tour, and if I am not yet 
freed from disease, and confirmed in health, I can, 
however, find much in the recollections of every 
day, to inspire my heart with thankfulness, and to 
increase my faith, I desire to be less and less so- 
licitous about results, and to throw myself entirely 
upon the care of him who careth for me, and who 
will accomplish his own purposes of love in his own 
wisest and best way. If he has any service for me 
to perform in the church, he will give me health 
and opportunity, and then I shall rejoice to perform 
it. If not, he will in the best possible manner, and 
by the easiest and most effectual means, prepare me 
for the place for which he designs me in that world 
where the ^inhabitant shall not say, I am sick.'" 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 105 

" London, August 16, 1836. 
u Mr. J — - F , 

'^ My dear Friend and Cousin, 

'* I hasten to secure the first moments of compar- 
ative leisure and repose, after a hurried, though 
pleasant journey, to address you in a few lines, 
prompted not less by feelings of affection and re- 
spect, than by a sense of personal obligation. It is 
one of the evils of travelling so rapidly as we are 
obliged to do at present, that we are always in 
haste, often confused and exhausted, and have 
scarcely ever time for minute observation or calm 
reflection, much less, for recording such observa- 
tions and reflections. There are, however, some 
advantages in this rapid movement. The mind is 
kept constantly occupied and amused, in passing 
from object to object of curiosity, and often of thril- 
ling interest; and our impressions, though less dis- 
tinct, are more vivid and enlivening. 

" We returned to London, on Friday last, from 
our northern tour, after an absence of just three 
weeks; having visited Cambridge,York, Durham, Ed- 
inburgh, Glasgow, Liverpool, Stratford-upon-Avon, 
Warwick, Kenilworth, Oxford, and the royal palace 
at Windsor. We had the opportunity at Windsor 
of seeing the king in person, as he was riding, and 
reviewing his troops in the park. By the help of a 
glass, we were favored with the high privilege of 
reading his majesty's face, and had a very distinct 
view of his features. He is a rather large man, of 



106 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

a coarse but quiet countenance, a little awkward in 
his movements, apparently affable, of simple man- 
ners, and, as 1 should judge, not inclined to sever- 
ity, nor much disposed to complain of the miseries 
of life. He was clad in a plain dress of blue — 
broad-cloth pantaloons, and coat with bright buttons, 
and wore a common black hat, and, when I saw him, 
held a white pocket-handkerchief in his hand. He 
is 71 years of age, and, as he alighted from his car- 
nage and walked towards his troops, he seemed to 
move with considerable vigor and firmness. On 
the whole, there was nothing in his appearance 
calculated to mortify, or injure my national pride ; 
for, with all due loyalty, and without any special 
admiration for ^ Old Hickory,' I must say, that, in 
form and address, in dignity and gracefulness and 
courtesy, the English king seems decidedly inferior 
to the American president. He was accompanied 
in his carriage by Sir Herbert Taylor, who was the 
private secretary of George III, and has been prac- 
tically, for many years, the king of England. 

*' I cannot pretend to give you any account of 
this too hasty, but very delightful journey. The 
whole tour was full of objects of unfailing interest. 
Every place we visited seemed worthy of a week's 
observation. The rich fields, the verdant and flow- 
ery hedges, the smooth, fresh, green lawns, the 
tufted groves, the lovely gardens and cottages, the 
spacious parks and magnfficent palaces, the ivy- 
mantled towers and walls of ruined castles, the 
venerable churches, and the sublime, awful cathe- 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 107 

drals, which characterize the scenery of England, 
never satiate the mind. I regretted that we had 
not more time to spend at York. Its cathedral is 
one of the noblest and most imposing structures in 
the world. I could stand and gaze upon its majes- 
tic walls, and lofty towers and turrets, and pace its 
long aisles, and look up to its stupendous arches, 
and view its clustered columns, and study its paint- 
ed windows, its sculpture, and its monuments, and 
listen to its pealing organ, hour after hour, and day 
after day, and, for aught I know, week after week, 
without satiety or sense of weariness. I regretted, 
still more, that we must hasten through Durham, 
with only a glance at a structure of a similar char- 
acter, and a few moments' call on our friend and 
recent visitor, Dr. Matheson. The good man seemed 
almost grieved at our haste, and would fain have 
compelled us to stay. 

" I had anticipated much pleasure in visiting 
Scotland, and although we rode into it in a most 
violent storm, drenched through on the outside of a 
coach, we suffered no harm, and my anticipations 
were fully realized, Edinburgh is decidedly the 
most beautiful city I have ever seen. Its situation 
is the most picturesque, the most romantic. From 
its different heights and different positions, it pre- 
sents you as many different views as a kaleidoscope, 
and all of them equally beautiful. The old part of 
the town, as you know, is very peculiar in its struc- 
ture, its houses rising to the height of eight or ten 
stories, while the new p^rt \ svery elegantly built 



108 LITE AND CHARACTER OF 

on broad streets, in neat Grecian style. We visited 
the castle, and saw the crown, the regalia of Scot- 
land, and the dark, narrow chamber, in which James 
the sixth of Scotland and the first of England was 
born, and from which his mother, queen Mary, made 
her escape, being let down the steep, rugged walls 
of the castle, from the window, in a basket. We 
made a visit also to the Holy Rood House, once the 
royal residence, and viewed its rooms of state, its 
ruined abbey, and with most interest the rooms of 
the unfortunate queen Mary, her bed, and furniture, 
and specimens of her own embroidery. Most of the 
gentlemen to whom we had letters were out of 
town. Dr. Chalmers was absent, but Dr. Dickson 
received us very cordially, and gave us every atten- 
tion. 

*^ We expect now, in a few days, to set out on a 
tour to Germany, to visit the principal cities of Ger- 
many, and taking Paris on our return, to be again 
in London by the first of October, to take passage 
for New York. The result of this whole voyage 
and tour I cannot now anticipate with entire confi- 
dence. I trust, however, it will be well, and that 
we shall have occasion to rejoice together in thank- 
fulness to him who feeds the raven, and clothes the 
lily, and guides the steps of men. I need not say 
that my daily prayers embrace both you and yours. 
Please make my aff*ectionate remembrance to Mrs. 
F , and her father, to your beloved and vener- 
ated father and mother, to your cousin B , and 

his lady, and to my friends in Boston, as you have 
opportunity." 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 109 

London, August 17, 1836. 

ti Mr. C S , 

"My dear Friend, 

^* The packet ship Philadelphia, Capt. Morgan, 
will sail this evening, for New York, and I cannot 
let the opportunity pass without scribbling a hasty 
line to one in whose society and correspondence I 
have had so much satisfaction, and from whom I 
have received so much benefit. I doubt not, I am 
still remembered in your affections and prayers, and 
I do not know that you are ever forgotten for a day 
in mine. You certainly have a remembrance in 
common with that church and people for whom I 
still feel a pastoral affection, and whom I cannot yet 
cease to commend daily to him who is ^ the true 
Shepherd,' who knoweth his sheep and will take 
care of his flock. What was begun in a spirit of 
self-devotion, of responsibility and love, has since 
been continued, in part at least, by the same spirit, 
but has rather grown into a habit, not easily broken 
but by the formation of other and conflicting habits ; 
and I cannot remember, that a day has ever passed 
since my ordination, when I have not felt constrained 
to bear the flock as on a shepherd's breast before him 
who is the ' great Shepherd and Bishop of men.' I 
fear, however, that mine is not 'the fervent, effectual 
prayer of the righteous man which availeth much.' 
But I am comforted in knowing, that there are 
among that people some men of faith and prayer, 
and ' pious women not a few.' And I doubt not 

VOL. I. 10 



110 hlTE AND CHARACTER OF 

our heavenly Father will, in his own tirae, manifest 
himself in answer to the prayers of such, and bestow 
upon his afflicted and long tried people the blessing 
they so earnestly desire. Perhaps 

* He '11 raise your spirit, when it faints, 
And far exceed your hope.* 

'^ I shall rejoice to hear from you, and to hear of 
your prosperity. Have you yet secured the services, 
the affections, and the care of an able, affectionate, 
faithful pastor ? I sometimes fancy I see such an 
one, collecting around him the scattered flock, break- 
ing to them the bread of life, and ^ leading them be- 
side the still waters, in green pastures.' And then 
my heart is with him, and I bid him god-speed in 
his work. 

'^ Last Sabbath I attended at Craven Chapel, Car- 
naby street, near Regent, and where Rev. Mr. Lief- 
child preaches. I had been told that he had been for 
some time quite ill, and probably would not preach. 
Still, I hoped he would, and went to hear him. 
The house is large, and was filled at an early hour. 
When the preacher rose to commence services, I 
asl^ed the gentleman who sE^t next to me, * Is that 
Mr. Liefchild V ' O, no,' he replied, ' Mr. Liefchild 
is very ill indeed^ and cannot come out.' The 
preacher proceeded, and won my sympathies, as a 
devout mail, engaged in sincere worship, and desir- 
ous to do good. His sermon was evangelical, and 
ought to satisfy n^any a humble disciple. At the 
close of the sermon it was announced, that * the 
sacrament will now be administered by the pastor ! ' 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. Ill 

Of course I rejoiced in the opportunity, and hastened 
to secure, according to their usage, the privilege of 
communing with this church, and of receiving the 
sacred emblems from the hands of one whose praise 
is in all the churches. I had scarcely taken my seat 
with the church, when the pastor came in. He is a 
large man, apparently fifty yearsof age, of robust form, 
and bore no other marks of disease than an uncom-* 
monly flushed countenance. He rose directly, and 
commenced by repeating a few lines of a heavenly 
hymn, and reading the words of the institution, 
accompanying them with a very few remarks. He 
soon discovered himself feeble, as one laboring under 
the debility and depression of secret disease. His 
manner was subdued and chaste, and there was a 
sweetness of tone and expression, a simplicity of 
thought and utterance, and a refinement and eleva- 
tion of feeling and a rising tide of affection, which 
altogether gained my heart. At the close of the 
regular service he again repeated a hymn. It was 
the same to which you once directed my attention 
in one of your letters, and which I have often dwelt 
upon with untold satisfaction and delight — contain- 
ing the lines — 

* Sweet to lie passive in thy hands, 
And know no will but thine.' 

He then gave freedom to his thoughts and feelings 
in a direct address to his flock, and all the pastor's 
soul came out. I wish I could repeat his address. 
It was for this purpose that I introduced the subject. 
But I shall not now have time or room. He told 



112 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

them he desired much to be present on this occasion, 
and had come out against the advice of his friends ; 
that he had enjoyed much in the service of his peo- 
ple, and had been blessed in his work ; bnt now he 
must leave them for a season, and he could not tell 
how long. He trusted, however, that they would 
live in peace, and prayer, and love one another, and 
profit by the instructions of those who might be sent 
to them in his stead. He then alluded to the cir- 
cumstances of the church. It is very large, and filled 
the body of the house. Some of them had been in 
affliction, and had glorified God in the furnace. 
Some of the officers of the church had suflTered 
much, but had been relieved and sanctified and 
saved to the church, to be a blessing to them in 
his absence ; some were now in trouble, and he 
sympathized with them, and exhorted the church to 
feel for them as brethren, and pray for them ; some 
had recently been added to the church in very inter- 
esting circumstances, one a son of a Jew, and one a 
son of Catholic parents ; he sought for them the 
assistance and the prayers of the church, and he be- 
lieved they would stand. He especially and earnestly 
exhorted his people against selfishness — selfishness 
m their religion — who would wish to go to heaven 
alone ? He doubted very much if such an one 
would ever get there. He wished them to pray God 
to bless them and make them a blessing. He had 
also a word for spectators, and then cone uded, by 
wishing his flock what he had long enjoyed, * not 
one moment's loss of confidence in God or afiec- 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 113 

tion for his people.' It was, altogether, one of 
the most pleasant and affecting scenes which I 
have witnessed. I loved the church, and loved 
their pastor, and could not but feel a half-formed 
wish that the Old South had him for their pastor. 
I did wish them such a pastor. But I am holding 
you too long, and yet I have not told you scarcely 
one thing which I intended when I sat down." 

*< Halle, Germany, Sept. 12, 1836. 
" My retered and beloved Mother, 

" I cannot persuade myself to let this day pass 
by, without snatching a few moments from the 
hurried scenes of a rapid and extensive journey, to 
sit down, and think of home, and converse a while 
with those whom I love there, — with her who gave 
me birth. I doubt not I shall be remembered there 
to-day, and be talked of, and prayed for by those 
who often follow in imagination, with affection and 
hope, him who is far, far away. Little did I ever 
expect to keep my thirty-fifth birth-day in the heart 
of Europe, in the centre of Germany, among a people 
whose language I can neither speak nor understand, 
while vast plains and hills and a wide ocean sepa- 
rate between me and the scenes of my childhood, 
the place where I first saw the light. But the ways 
of Providence have long been to me strange, and 
their developments unanticipated. I have indeed 
been ^ led in a way that I knew not ; ' and of 
what is before me now 1 cannot even form a con- 
jecture. But it is enough that he ^ who leadeth 
10* 



114 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

Joseph like a flock,' will lead me ; he who 'feedeth 
the ravens,' will feed me ; he who ^ clotheth the 
lily,' will clothe me ; he who ^ taketh care of 
oxen ' and of ' the sparrows,' will take care of me. 
To-day completes the thirty-fifth year of my life, 
and if ever I am to do any thing in the world, it 
must be soon. The past looks to me like one con- 
fused, bewildering waste. It has passed like a 
dream, and left only the impression of a dream be- 
hind. Yet in looking back, I cannot but see and 
acknowledge many blessings, many comforts, many 
favors, which mark the goodness of God, and the 
kindness of those whom he has made my friends. 
There are many things in my past history, which 
seem to indicate that God has yet a purpose to ac- 
complish by me in this world, and which he will 
make known in his own best time and way. He 
has upheld me through a long scene of weakness 
and suff'ering and disease ; has raised me up when I 
seemed to be sinking into the grave : and he still 
supports me, and gives, I think, growing strength 
and improving health ; and though I am sometimes 
desponding, I am, on the whole, well sustained by 
the buoyancy of hope. I trust, therefore, that he 
will still keep me in ' all the way in which I go,' 
and conduct me safely through this journey, and 
bring me back to my home in safety, with health 
enough to make me comfortable in myself, and a 
comfort to my friends, and to enable me to labor in 
his service, and be a blessing to the church and the 
world. I think I have, at least, stronger and more 



REV. SAMUEL H, STEARNS. 115 

definite and fixed purposes of usefulness, and shall 
be able, perhaps, to use to better advantage the 
little strength that is given to me. 

'^ Since I sat down, the servants have been in, 
talking like so many blackbirds, and as Mr. Stowe 
has gone out, I am left alone to manage with them 
as I can. It would be amusing to you to hear this 
confusion of tongues, and to see the strange gestures 
and contortions which such interviews occasion. 
We left London three weeks ago to-morrow morn- 
ing, and came by steamboat to Hamburg, and from 
thence, by Schnell Point, to Berlin ; saw there 
Professors Mahaincke, Hengstenberg, and several 
other professors and distinguished men ; the king 
also, and the crown prince, and a few of the most 
interesting objects of the place. From Berlin we 
came by the vetturino, or sort of private hackney- 
coach, to Wittemberg, where Luther and Melanc- 
thon lived, and where they are buried ; saw their 
sepulchres, and the room in the old convent where 
Luther first wrote against the abuses of the pope, 
&c., &c. From Berlin we came, last Friday, to 
Halle, — saw Gesenius, and Tholuck, and a few 
other professors. We saw Professor Tholuck in his 
study and in his parlor, walked with him, dined 
with him, took tea with him, and loved and ad- 
mired him. As soon as Mr. Stowe has finished his 
business in Leipsig, we intend to journey on di- 
rectly to Paris, and thence to London, and take the 
packet-ship for New York. I have been hitherto 
much gratified with my visit to Germany, and shall 



116 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

I think, hereafter, have a better opinion of German 
people and of German literature. Yet there is 
much here, and in England, too, to excite commis- 
eration, and make the philanthropist sad." 

Among the pencil notes written upon loose leaves, 
is the following entry for Sept. 12th, the date of the 
above letter to his mother : — 

Sept. 12. — Birth-day. — After breakfast, sat down 
to write a letter to my mother — interruptions — visit 
the University — attempt again to write — visit the 
library — hasten to prepare luggage, and take coach 
for Leipsig — quiet, easy ride — country still a plain, 
but the soil a little better — am occupied all the way 
with thoughts pertaining to the day — recollections 
of the past — thoughts of home — purposes for the 
future — pleasant meditations and prayer — sweet 
communion with Heaven — reach Leipsig about five 
o'clock — immediately sit down to complete my 
letter — interruptions — tea — finish — thoughts of 
home — thoughts of the past — thoughts of the 
future — thoughts of heaven — join the family at 
home in their evening prayer. So ends my thirty- 
fifth year — far, far from the home of my childhood 
— ^in the centre of Europe — the heart of Germany. 
The future is known only to God — to him I com- 
mit it all. Oh! if I might be made useful — a 
comfort to my friends — a blessing to the church 
and the world ! Father — grant it for thy mercy's 
sake — for thy son's sake — and to thee be all the 
glory. 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 117 

Mr. Stearns completed '^ a rapid, but very inter- 
esting journey through a considerable part of Ger- 
many," and arrived in Paris about the first of 
October. His own inclination, and many circum- 
stances connected with his health, made it desirable 
that he should visit, and pass the winter in the 
south of Europe. He had, however, made his 
arrangements to set sail for America in the course 
of a few weeks. Just at this time, he fell in com- 
pany with Rev. Edward E. Salisbury and lady, 
who were about to start on a tour, through Mar- 
seilles, Geneva, and Florence, to Rome. He was 
persuaded, by the generous and affectionate interest 
which they expressed in his welfare, to take a seat 
with them in their private carriage, with the ex- 
pectation of leisurely and pleasant travelling, or 
rest, during the winter, among the works of taste 
and the classic antiquities of Italy. In their soci- 
ety, who, to the last, were to him as a brother and 
sister, his spirits were kept cheerful, and his health 
seemed rapidly to improve. 

After announcing his decision to remain in Europe 
through the winter, he writes : ^* I hope to return in 
the spring, hale and hearty, ready for work. My 
health, though improved, is not entirely restored. I 
am much more comfortable, have much more power 
of action and endurance, but the disease is not 
entirely removed ; and to return home to our cold 
climate, just at the commencement of winter, might 
be hazardous." 

Having given a sprightly account of his mode of 



118 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

travelling, and the pleasures of the first day's ride 
with his new companions, he proceeds : ^' In the 
evening, we reached Fontainbleau, formerly the 
residence of the kings of France, and still a favorite 
resort of the royal family during a part of the sum- 
mer and autumnal months. The palace is famous 
in French history, and memorable for some of the 
most interesting scenes in the reign of Buonaparte. 
It was here that he first announced to Josephine 
his intended divorce. It was here that he himself 
abdicated the throne of France. We saw the table 
on which he signed his abdication, and a fac simile 
of the abdication itself, the original of which was 
written with his own hand. We saw, too, and 
walked over the court where he bade farewell to 
his soldiers, embraced his old companions in arms, 
kissed the royal standard, and leaped into his car- 
riage to go to the Isle of Elbe. We stayed long 
enough at Fontainblean, to visit the chief apart- 
ments of the palace. The royal family had just 
left it ; the brands were still on the hearth, and the 
furniture not all taken down. 

*'My travelling, hitherto, has been too rapid, too 
fatiguing, too exciting, and has subjected me to 
too much exposure to afford me the highest benefit. 
Yet I have endured wonderfully, and under all the 
circumstances have been gaining. I am almost 
afraid to tell you, that in coming from Strasburg to 
Paris, we rode three nights and nearly three days, 
without stopping, save to swallow a hasty meal, or 
change horses. On the continent, one is often 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 119 

obliged to travel by night. The Diligences usually 
start just at night, and always go night and day, 
till they reach their destination ; if you stop by the 
way, it is a chance if you can be taken up again. 
We have^ however, generally taken another mode 
of conveyance, more slow, but more independent. 
I have not space to describe this mode now, but 
only that in every large town of Germany there are 
^ Johnkutchers'' (hackney-coachmen), who are ready 
to undertake to carry you to any part of the king- 
dom, in a close carriage, like a hackney-coach, with 
two horses, for a moderate compensation, and as we 
were a party of three, and it suited our convenience 
better, we usually travelled in this way. 

" I should like to give you some account of my 
journey through Germany. It has been to me a 
very interesting, amusing country; entirely new, 
or rather so very old as to have all the effect of 
novelty ; a country, too, associated with the most 
interesting history of the church ; with chivalry 
and with the crusades ; with Popery in all its mag- 
nificence, and with the Reformation. I visited the 
most interesting scenes of Luther's life, have seen 
his grave, and that of Melancthon, &c., &c. The 
houses and the habits of the people, their lands, 
and everything about the country, are peculiar. 
Perhaps 1 shall have leisure soon to give you some 
account of Deutchland, as they call it." 



120 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 



CHAPTER VII. 

FOREIGN TRA.VELS CONTINUED — LETTERS. 

*< MONTAUBAN, Oct. 25, 1836. 
" Mv DEAR Sister, 

^' I wrote from Paris to , the 8th instant, 

a hurried letter, which I hope is now floating on 
the ocean, pursuing its steadfast, though perilous 
way, from wave to wave, across the wide waters, 
and destined soon to reach my native shores, and 
be gathered up by a brother's hand. I had written 

a few days previously to , enclosing one for 

mother, and in these have given my friends some 
general information of my course, and of the 
change of my plans, and apprised them of my 
purpose to remain, the coming winter, on this side 
the great deep. I hope they will all safely reach 
you before Thanksgiving, and that you will then 
all, in health and comfort, unite with grateful hearts 
in devout acknowledgments of the goodness of our 
heavenly Father, who has so kindly taken care of 
us, and so highly blessed our family, and whom we 
all now professedly hope to love. 

^* The next morning after I wrote to C , Mr. 

Stowe left me, and set out on his journey for Eng- 
land. It was just four months that day, since we 



REV. SAMUEL. H. STEARNS. 121 

came on board the Montreal. We had passed to- 
gether a long pilgrimage, and through many scenes 
of most exciting interest, and now we must part, 
each one to go his own way, and not without sad 
and melting emotions." 



" MARSEILLES, Nov. 9, 1836. 
"Rev. J L , 

"My dear Friend and Brother, 

" Your very affectionate and agreeable letter of 
the 20th of August, was received evening before 
last. It came by way of London and Paris, and 
had been a few days waiting my arrival at this 
place. It is probably the last that is designed for 
me by my friends at home, during my absence in 
Europe. Had I sailed according to my original 
plan and expectation, it would have been lost. 
The reception of it, at this time, is the more grate- 
ful to my feelings, as it is the last I may expect, 
till there has been time for my letters of the 1st of 
October to reach home, and for others to be re- 
turned in reply. It seems a long time to wait for 
intelligence from home ; but I trust that he who 
rules the winds will waft the little sheet safely 
over the wave, to my native shores, and send fa- 
voring breezes to hasten other messengers of love, 
that will be quickly despatched to greet the wander- 
er in a foreign land. 

*^I do not doubt that I am often remembered, as 
you kindly suggest, and often made the subject of 

VOL. I. 11 



122 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

remark in the little family circle. I know not what 
relation or connection there may be between the 
thoughts of friends at a distance from each other, 
but I seem often to know that you are thinking and 
talking about me. By day and by night, awake 
and asleep, I have many such sympathizing and de- 
lightful interviews. It would, I think, be amusing, 
could our fancied conversations be actually repeat- 
ed to each other. 1 often stroll out alone, and al- 
ways when 1 can get an opportunity, to indulge 
myself without interruption, and without restraint, 
in such communion of souls. Then I station my- 
self upon some favoring eminence, and taking my 
latitude and longitude, and making allowance, too, 
for the globular form of the earth, I point my fin- 
ger westward and downward^ and say, there is 
Boston, and there is Bedford; there is the old man- 
sion, with mother and M , and C , and 

A C , and Mr. L ; there is the little 

meeting-house, the refuge of the * persecuted but 

not forsaken,' — there is aunt B 's with aunt 

and her sons, — Mr. M , and little E , dear 

little thing, — and there, embowered among the 

old elms and apple-trees, is uncle L 's, where 

I have spent many a happy birth-day afternoon, 
— and then I see how you are all dressed, and 
how you look, and what you are doing; — and 
I feel how you do, and then I think your thoughts, 
and my heart moves with your emotions ; and I 
seem to be one of you, to be sympathizing and 
talking with you ; and who can say I am not ? 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 123 

Say, — to him who denies it, — Uhere are more 
things than are dreamed of in your philosophy.^ 

** And you will not think it strange, that ^ I long 
for you all, making remembrance of you always, in 
every prayer of mine.' You will not think it 
strange, that, among others, I have a standing pe- 
tition for my * mother and sisters, the little family 
under the paternal roof,' — for ^ the church and 
people of my native village, and for him who min- 
isters to them in sacred things.' There may be 
danger, that a uniform petition may degenerate into 
a mere form ; but where the desire is uniform, and 
always upon my heart, and in my thoughts, why 
should it not have a uniform utterance ? You are, 
then, certainly remembered, and more than once 
each day. But Saturday evening, and Sabbath day, 
as you seem to know, are the most precious seasons. 
It is then that I am always with you, and of you. It 
is then that I always calculate the time, and know the 
hour of your evening repast, and of your evening de- 
votions, — for the sun does not now sink below your 
horizon, till about six hours after it has withdrawn 
from my parting gaze, and left me only the consola- 
tion, that it has gone to make an evening visit to my 
friends at home, to cheer them with its mellow light, 
and to remind them, in the quiet musings which it 
induces, of him who is far, faraway. The Saturday 
evening has now become still more interestirjg, and 
more sacred, since I became associated with Mr. 

and Mrs. S , who have kindred feelings, and 

with whom, after talking of home, and reading a 



124 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

chapter in the Letter Book of our heavenly Father, 
it is a pleasure to unite in social prayer. We thus 
hallow the hour, and welcome the Sabbath, and 
consecrate for ourselves the day, which is here so 
awfully desecrated by all around us. And then 
again on Sabbath day, — your Sabbath morning, 
we love to take sweet counsel with you, and walk 
to the house of God in company." 

" Marseilles, Nov. 10, 1836. 
'* My dear Brother, 

' Where'er I roam, whatever realms 1 see, 
My heart, untravelled, still returns to thee.* 

*^It returns, — not every day only; — it re- 
turns almost every hour ; as the dove, from a short, 
circuitous flight, returns as soon as its wing is 
weary, to its cote, and to its mate. It returns, and 
all the heartfelt scenes of infancy and boyhood and 
early youth throng around its meeting. And 
although the rough, chill blasts of a fitful, disap- 
pointing world, — a world that has been cursed for 
sin, — have sometimes smote it, and scattered the 
foliage of its most delicate aff'ections on the rude 
tempest-breeze, it still remains, firm as the moun- 
tain oak, which suff'ers its green leaves to be seared 
and torn away, while it struggles with the winter's 
storm, but whose roots are all the while growing 
stronger and striking deeper, and preparing to put 
forth a more luxuriant and verdant growth, when 
the mild, warm air of spring shall breathe upon it 
its more genial influences. I trust, should a more 
balmy air revisit it, my heart will not be found 



REV, SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 125 

blighted and wasted at its root. The spirit of olden 
times often springs afresh, and with new and increas- 
ing vigor. Home, and all connected with it, is an 
object of constant and ever-growing interest. 

* Dear is that schoolboy spot, 
We ne'er forget, though there we are forgot.' 

^^ But there lam not forgot, — and dear is the 
brother who shared with me the pastimes of school- 
boy days, and all the thrilling scenes, the joys and 
sorrows of the schoolboy spot. The scenes, too, of 
our journeyings in the wilderness, and by the cata- 
ract, were well fitted to strengthen those attach- 
ments ; and the little rose leaf, which found its way 
across the wild waves of the broad Atlantic, brought 
in upon my soul a flood of recollections, and swelled 
it with a high tide of emotions. Precious httle leaf! 
1 shall preserve it, as an emblem of a love, which 
can no more fade and no more wilt, which could not 
and cannot die ! * Every day presents some object 

* The brother, to whom this letter was directed, plucked a rose 
which bloomed upon the Terrapin rocks in the summer of 1835. 
It overhung the cataract, and drank the spray, and seemed to be 
listening to the thunders of the awful flood. The rose was pre- 
served between the leaves of a pocket Bible, and, in the autumn 
of 1836, a single leaf of it was enclosed in a letter, and sent across 
the Atlantic — to Mr. Stearns, who was then travelling in Germa- 
ny — as a remembrancer of the past and a pledge of fraternal 
affection for the future. The leaf was sacredly cherished. It 
attended the traveller in all his wanderings. It was with him, 
during the winter in Rome. It returned with him, in his journey 
of sickness and pain, to Paris. It came back, after his death, to the 
hand which, more than two years before, had gathered it, in the 

11* 



126 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

which reminds me of what we saw or ^felt, when 
wandering together along the river, and by the lake 
and among the mountains. Every thing which one 
sees of peculiar interest, in a strange land, recalls 
some likeness among objects familiar to him in his 
own. It was so common, while travelling in Ger- 
many, to sa3^ of every thing pleasing, — *That is 
beautiful,' — or, Mhat is grand, it is like the valley 
of the Connecticut, — it is like the wheat-fields 
of the Seneca and Cayuga, — or, it is like the hills of 
Brookline/ — or to like it to some other object dear 
to an American heart, — that our German friend 

and fellow-traveller, the T professor, would 

sometimes rally a little, and, half sportively, half 
rebukingly, say, ^ Ah, yes, that must be beautiful, be- 
cause it is so like! there is nothing beautiful in old 
Europe, unless it is like something in America. 
Yes, look there! — is not ihdii like ! is not that 
beautiful ! ' But it was not and is not merely the 
beautiful and sublime, whose power can bring the 
scenes of the western world across the ocean. 

^^ I rejoice much with you in your successes as a 
minister of Christ, in winning souls to him who is 
the Prince of peace. There is no situation in this 
wide world so noble, so delightful, as that of a faith- 
ful, successful minister of the gospel, surrounded by 
an affectionate, confiding, peaceful people." 

company of this brother, at Niagara. Some may smile, but this 
little rose leaf, for its precious associations, is now accounted by 
the possessor at a price "above rubies." 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 127 

«< Marseilles, Nov. 12, 1836. 
" My dear Sister, 

^^ I wrote from Montauban about twenty days 

since, in great haste, as usual, to A C , a 

confnsed letter, in which I have given you some in- 
distinct account of our journey from Paris as far as 
that place, ^ — of our carriage, company, equipage, 
mode of travelling, &c. Perhaps it will be not un- 
interesting to you, to receive even an empty list 
of the most prominent towns, through which we 
have pursued our way since, that you may be able 
to follow us on the map. We were then in the 
midst of the richest and most luxuriant vine coun- 
try of the south of France. All my gayest fancies, 
and most deUghtful Elysian imaginations of this 
lovely land, were fully sustained, if not fully realiz- 
ed. The weather was fine ; the sky serene, of a soft, 
mild azure, with only here and there a light, mellow 
cloud, just frequent enough to break the uniformity 
and prevent the otherwise monotonous aspect of the 
broad arch above us. The air was pure and balmy 
and fragrant, as if it just came from the open gates 
of paradise ; and the whole country, cultivated in 
the highest degree, and clad with vines and fruits, 
spread before us a scene of more than terrestrial 
beauty. It seemed difficult to realize that the gar- 
den of Eden was laid waste, and that we were now 
in the open field, in a world which has been cursed 
for sin. Surely, I thought, the curse has fallen 
lightly upon us, — it has fallen from an indulgent 



128 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

Father's hand. Shame on our miirmurings, our 
grumblings, our suUenness, our peevishness, our dis- 
trust and our discontent, — shame, I say, on us all! 
Look at our Father's face and see its smiles, its 
bright and cheerful and glowing love, as reflected 
from these sunny hills, and rich, verdant valleys! 
Our course from Bourdeaux lay along the banks of 
the Garonne. As we left Tonneins that morning, 
disgusted with dirty chambers, and complaining 
with empty stomachs, of the ill-served fare which 
the inert and self-indulgent inmates of the hotel 
had off*ered for our repast the preceding evening, 
the scenery spread out before us by paternal hands 
seemed to look upon us with an expression of mild 
but overpowering rebuke. Our road ran along close 
on the verge of the winding Garonne. A thick fog, 
like that which often rises from the river and rests 
upon the valley of Connecticut, was rising and 
spreading like a semi-transparent veil over this sil- 
very stream and the vine-colored valley through 
which we passed. Our view was limited and soft- 
ened, but not entirely obscured. The air was moist 
and cool, but not chilly or depressing. Every thing 
seemed just fitted to soothe and tranquillize a fever- 
ed spirit. At intervals, along the road side, and in 
front of some humble cottage, we saw groups of men 
and women, with smiling faces and sprightly limbs, 
busily and briskly employed in securing their abun- 
dant harvests, and most of them, at this time, in get- 
ting out their hemp, — the men and women both 
gleesomely engaged in the same occupation. It 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 129 

was beautiful to see the flourish of the' long rich 
plant, as the vigorous arm of the peasants threw it 
high in the air, making a sweep around their un- 
covered heads, with a playful motion that seemed 
only the unsuppressed action of their own buoyant 
hearts. Clusters of the tall plant from which we 
obtain our floss silk, were springing at unequal dis- 
tances along the road side, and which in their ap- 
pearance realized to us our ideas of the sugar-plant, 
— while the vine, which is usually kept closely 
pruned and carefully trained upon poles, giving to a 
vineyard an appearance not unlike that of a large 
field of low pole-beans, was here suff'ered to luxuri- 
ate in all its natural richness, and entwining itself 
among the boughs of the trees (which are every 
where in France set along the sides of the high- 
ways), threw its graceful branches far over the road, 
almost embowering our path, As the misty curtain 
which enveloped us sometimes parted, as if drawn 
aside, giving us an opening through which we might 
catch for a moment a more distant and distinct 
view, it revealed to us not only the smooth, bright 
surface of the river on our right, but here and there 
a lofty hill on our left, half-covered with vines, 
tipped with shrubs and evergreens, and not unfie- 
quently bearing upon its highest summit the impos- 
ing massive walls of an ancient ' chateau ' or castle. 
*^ Having refreshed ourselves at Agen, we rode on 
through a country and scenes quite similar to those 
I have described, except that the morning mist had 
risen, and parted into beautiful forms, and rolled 



130 



LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 



away before the nconday sun, and \v£ls succeeded by 
a bright, congenial, unclouded atmosphere. At the 
little village of Malauze, where we stopped, at about 
four o'clock, to change horses, I proposed to Mr. 
S , in the nriean time, to walk on a short dis- 
tance, and enjoy the free air and unobstructed view 
which the present opportunity afforded. We left 
our company and carriage in the narrow valley of 
this sequestered village, and walked quickly for- 
ward, ascending a hill to the height of a hundred 
feet, and then observing on our side, just by the 
road, an abrupt, lofty cliff, which seemed to promise 

a full view of the surrounding country, Mr. S 

instantly, upon my suggestion, sprang upon its side, 
and in a moment we were scrambling together up 
its steep ascent, first along the steps of a terraced 
vineyard, and then, at the extremity of this path, 
clambering up, on our hands and feet, until we 
gained the top, at a height of two hundred feet 
above the road, and three hundred feet above the 
spot where our carriage was still seen waiting. Our 
anticipations were not disappointed, and we found 
ourselves richly rewarded for our almost breathless 
toil. Beneath us lay the rich valley of the Ga- 
ronne, through which this broad, placid river was 
winding its unobstructed way, and reflecting from 
its smooth surface a light which told only of purity 
and peace. Opposite to us rose a rugged hill, on 
the top of which stood, in solemn grandeur, the 
broken but still firm and seemingly imperishable 
walls of a very ancient and ruined castle. Every 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 131 

where around us, in tasteful combinations, were 
plains and hills, richly clad with vines and loaded 
with clusters of purple and green grapes, beautifully- 
contrasted and studded with villages, churches, 
villas, cottages and palaces, — presenting at once a 
scene of grandeur and beauty, the most enchanting. 
I felt my bosom rising and expanding with emotion, 
as if my soul were growing and becoming enlarged 
and elevated at the view. I could not but think 
for the moment, that the arch-tempter had displayed 
the utmost of his infernal wisdom, when he placed 
the meek and unambitious Saviour of the world up- 
on a high mountain, and showed him all the king- 
doms of the world in a moment of time, and said, 

* All these will I give thee,' &c. Or rather, in sym- 
pathy with a favorite poet, I exclaimed at once, 

* Creation's heir, the world, the world is mine.' 
Or better still, with something, I trust, of the spirit 
of the Christian poet, my heart glowed with the sen- 
timent, and found utterance in the language, which 
he has attributed to every ' freeman whom the 
truth makes free : ' 

* He looks abroad into the varied fields 
Of nature, and though poor, perhaps, compared 
With those whose mansions glitter in his sight, 
Calls the delightful scenery all his own. 
His are the mountains, and the valleys his, 
And the resplendent rivers. His to enjoy 
With a propriety that none can feel. 
But who with filial gratitude inspired. 
Can lift to heaven an unpresumptuous eye. 
And, smiling, say, — My Father made them all.' 

^' Regaining the carriage, our way was still through 



132 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

this most delightful country. As we rode on, the 
vine-clad hills still rose and spread themselves be- 
fore us in every variety of form and combination, — 
with an aspect altogether peculiar, sloping and roll- 
ing and mingling, like the folds of an imperial robe. 
A little further on, in a broad, lovely valley, lay the 
town of Moissac ; we had scarcely passed it, when 
the sun set in all his glory, and the full moon rose 
upon us. Directly, as we passed a little village on 
our left, the vespers were heard from its church- 
tower, announcing, in sweet music, the close of the 
day, and calling the villagers to rest. But I forbear, 
and remember that I have scarcely written you a 
word of what I promised. To the purpose, then : — 
we passed that night at Montauban, and the next 
day came to Toulouse ; thence to Carcasonne, Nar- 
bonne, Montpelien We do not always have sunny 
days, and we rode into Montpelier, in a snow-storm. 
Thence to Nismes, to Avignon, to Aix, and to Mar- 
seilles. The country, too, is not all a vineyard ; we 
have passed through scenes on this route, as rocky, 
wild and barren as any part of New Hampshire or 
Scotland. The vineyards have now chiefly given 
place to olives and almonds and figs. We have had 
grapes upon our table till I am tired of them ; we 
have them still, and figs too, fresh from the trees. 
We expect to set out again on our journey to Italy 
on Monday or Tuesday. I hope 1 shall soon feel 
more at leisure, and more composed, that I may 
think and write calmly, and not, as now, mar every 
thing I touch." *^ 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 133 

«< Genoa, Dec. 4, 1836. 
" Mt dear Sister, 

'^ Of the few letters which I have received since 
I left home, the longest and not the least agreeable 
was from a sister, whose unfailing fidelity and kind 
attentions, always prompt, always free, cheerful and 
delicate, have given her no inferior place in my af- 
fections. 1 need not say, that I love my sisters, and 
remember gratefully their many kind offices. I 
love the home of my childhood, and my retreat, in 
later years, during many a storm, and many a low- 
ering day. 

** We left Nice last Wednesday morning, and 
arrived in Genoa on Saturday. Our route from 
Nice lay along the shores of the Mediterranean, and 
at the foot of the maritime Alps, or of the Apen- 
nines. The scenery is most beautiful, grand and 
romantic. The road winds around the capes and 
coves, the harbors and promontories, and is carried 
along upon the side of a deep declivity, often upon 
the verge of a precipice, and sometimes at the height 
of fifteen hundred or two thousand feet above the 
level of the sea. You look up, and over you hangs 
a mountain of rock, — you look down, and at the 
bottom of a deep abyss the waves are breaking just 
under your feet. This road was begun by Buona- 
parte, and was finished but a few years since. It is 
one of the most stupendous works of art which have 
been undertaken by the enterprise of men. The 
solid rock has in some places been cut down at least 

VOL. I. 12 



134 LIFE AND CHARACTER OT 

two or three hundred feet on one side, and a wall or 
terrace built up a corresponding height on the other. 
As you look along at a distance upon these rugged 
hills, standing out even into the waters of the sea, it 
seems impossible that human beings should here ever 
find a passage. And yet for the most part, we rolled 
on upon a path as smooth as a bowling-green. Some- 
times the road descends to a level with the sea, and 
runs along upon the beach, and across the beds of 
rivers, which we were obliged to ford, because the 
waters of these mountain streams are in some sea- 
sons so rapid, that it is almost impossible to make a 
bridge that will stand. And then again, it rises sud- 
denly to the giddy height of the mountain summit, or 
assumes its more uniform elevation. In a few places 
it passes directly through the hill, by a tunneled 
way. In one place, we rode through a subterranean 
gallery of five hundred feet in length, and emerged 
at a short turn on a lofty cliff overhanging the sea, 
as if we were about to leap into its foaming billows ; 
yet wc passed in safety, and suffered not the slight- 
est accident. He who lifted up the mountains, and 
shut up the sea with bars, bore us along in his hand. 
In passing over the rocky cape of Capo Zeppo, on 
Friday evening, the road is so narrow and steep, 
that we were obliged to alight and walk a mile or 
two ; and the descejit is so precipitous that a car- 
riage can only pass in a zigzag course, of seven or 
eight traverses, while the hind wheels are locked, 
four or five men holding on to retard and direct its 
movements. At the bottom of this mountain, lies 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 135 

the town of Finale, just on the sea-shore, where we 
arrived a little after night-fall, and took lodgings in 
a miserable inn for the night. The floors of our 
rooms were of coarse, dirty brick, without any rag 
of a carpet, and a miserable apology for a fire-place. 
Eightly named, thought I, rightly named Jf^maZe, 
— and truly I never felt so much as is if I was at 
the end of the world. However, by help of burnt 
vinegar and cologne, we made our condition quite 
tolerable, obtained some sleep, and rose early the 
next morning to continue our journey under a 
bright and clear sky, and a balmy, inspiriting air, 
and through scenes of absorbing beauty and gran- 
deur. At the small village of Cogoleto, on our way, 
we were shown the house where it is said and be- 
lieved Christopher Columbus was born. Be this as 
it may, we are certainly now in Genoa^ — a place 
which his name has made interesting to every intel- 
ligent inhabitant of the new world which he discov- 
ered. We shall probably remain here a day or two, 
and then go on towards Florence, where we pur- 
pose to stay two or three weeks, and afterwards to 
go to Rome. 

** We are now in a land of vines and olives, of 
figs and pomegranates. The vintage and the har- 
vest have indeed past, — but oranges and lemons 
are both blossoming and ripening in the gardens, 
and roses are blooming fresh as in June ; although 
at a little distance the bare summits of the Alps 
are seen, white with show. Yet it is not exactly 
like summer here ; the air is chilly, and the night 



136 



LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 



cold; — we need a fire constantly. I hope you 
have a good one, and are sitting happily around it, 
— all well, — all prosperous. My health is improved 
and improving. Love to mother, and to all. 
** Your affectionate brother, 

'^ Samuel H. Stearns." 

^^ P. S. I have opened my letter after it was 
folded, on the recollection, that it will probably be 
received sometime in January, 1837, — 1837 ! how 
rapidly our years are rolling away ! But I have 
opened my letter to wish you all a happy new year. 
Please say to mother and to all, / wish you all 
a happy new year ! I remember, too, that it is just 
twenty years this day since my good father took 
me into his chaise, and carried me to Andover, to 
place me in the academy, to begin my studies pre- 
paratory to college and to the ministry ; and I have 
only to hope another year may find me in the work. 
O, how I shall rejoice in it ! My dear sister, I wish 
you again a happy new year! " 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEAKNS. 137 



CHAPTER VIII. 

EXTRACTS FROM HIS NOTE BOOK — LETTERS. 

^^ Dec, 9, 1836. — We soon crossed the boundary 
of Lucca, passed the last custom-house, and were 
fairly within the limits of Tuscany, looking earn- 
estly for our resting-place for the night, more 
earnestly to catch a glimpse, before total darkness 
should preclude the sight, of an object which our 
infant imagination had seen and admired, — when, 
lo ! the towers, the dome, the churches, and the 
palaces of Pisa. Here stood the ^ leaning tower,' 
It was no illusion. Here it stood actually before 
our eyes, leaning just as it has always leaned, be- 
fore the ^ mind's eye,' since the moment when we 
first saw it in our nursery. We gazed upon it with 
silence, and with throbbing hearts, till the thick- 
ening mist and the growing darkness of the night 
veiled it from our eyes still fixed to see. It was 
not long, however, before we passed the massive 
gates, and were within the ancient walls of ven- 
erable Pisa. 

^^Dec. 14. — This morning, at 8J o'clock, we left 

Pisa and the ' Albergo di Ussero,' with pleasant 

impressions and recollections, both of the place and 

our accommodations and entertainment, and com- 

12'*^ 



138 



LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 



menced, with animating anticipations, the last stage 
of our journey to Florence, * Firenze la Bella,' — 
the birth-place and the home of genius and the 
arts, — of the beautiful and the grand, — of noble, 
ingenious, and lofty minds. Our route lay along 
the banks of the Arno, and, with the exception of 
a short distance, where the river seems to flow 
through a narrow pass in a low ridge of the Apen- 
nines, the country seemed as an extended level 
valley from Pisa to Florence. As we passed out of 
the ancient city, we had little to attract our atten- 
tion by the way, except a throng of peasants, who 
were gathering in from the neighboring villages, 
with their provisions for the market. We admired, 
as we had done before, whenever we met the peas- 
ants of Tuscany, the simplicity of their appear- 
ance ; their manners and dress, their countenances 
and expression, all betokening industry, content, 
and rural happiness. We were much amused, also, 
with their vehicles, which were usually a rude 
frame, with a kind of loose carpet or sack suspended 
beneath, for a floor, and with short, stout shafts, 
attached not to the collar, but to the saddle of the 
beast that draws it, and upon a level with the top 
of the saddle, the pommel of which rises four or 
six inches, and is covered and ornamented all over 
with large brass nails. 

^ # ^ # # # 

'* The day had been lowery, and the shades of 
evening now began to thicken around us, as we 
entered within the walls of Florence, with silent 



KEV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 139 

thoughts, and throbbing hearts, and alighted at the 
Hotel de PEurope, but recently a palace of one of 
the noble Florentine families, whom a change of 
fortune had driven from their home. We were here 
immediately conducted into spacious and resplend- 
ent apartments, all lighted and warmed for our re- 
ception. 

^^ Dec, 15. — At Florence. Was awaked this 
morning, at a very early hour, by the piercing 
sounds of the church-bells ringing their matins. 
They began at five o'clock, and continued ringing 
in full chorus till six; when the street before my 
chamber echoed with the thick trampling of feet, 
moving to the consecrated place of public devotion. 
Surely, these Catholics seem exemplary in the ob- 
servance of their own established forms of godli- 
ness, however they may deny the power. 

w "jv 'ff tP tP ?Pr 

^^ Dec. 17. — Went out immediately after break- 
fast, this morning, to commence our regular sight- 
seeing business for the day. Our first visit was to 
the church of Santa Croce, — the * Poet's corner ' of 
the Florentines. It is a venerable building of the 
thirteenth century, by Arnolfo Lapo. It is very 
plain in its exterior, without towers or dome. The 
fagade^ which is unfinished, is of plain brick, de- 
signed to be cased with marble, which has never 
been laid, except two or three partial courses at the 
base. Over the front door is a large, round, painted 
window. We were conducted into it by a long, 
narrow cloister of the convent, to which it belongs. 



140 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

On each side of us, and beneath our feet, were 
monuments of the dead. Every step was upon a 
marble slab, covered with an inscription, commem- 
orative of those whose dust reposes beneath. At 
the extreme end of this cloister is a door, com- 
municating with the church, and by which we 
entered. On the left of this door, within the south 
transept, is a small enclosed chapel, Dei cavalcanti, 
containing a few monuments, with two figures, and 
the crucifixion in wood, by Doratello, and regarded 
as works of some merit. As they were not very 
carefully noticed, or for some other reason, they 
did not make a very strong impression on my mind, 
I will attempt no account of them. On the oppo- 
site side, at the extreme end of the northern tran- 
sept, is a similar chapel, Dei JNicolini, containing 
statues of Moses and Aaron, of Prudence, Humility, 
and Chastity, — that of Aaron, which represents him 
in a meditating posture, is very fine, the drapery 
exceedingly rich. Humility is beautifully conceived, 
and well executed. 

^' There are, also, upon the ceiling of this chapel, 
some frescoes worthy of notice ; especially four 
sybils, which fill the circles between the windows. 
The general aspect of this church, in the interior, 
is solemn and imposing, though not beautiful. It is 
nearly of basilical form, and of Greco-Gothic style. 
It consists of a nave and side aisles, separated by 
large painted arches, resting on octagonal piers, with 
Corinthian pilasters of very rude workmanship. The 
columns are of gray, milaceous sandstone, and the 



JlEV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS, 141 

arches and piers are colored in imitation of it. Nar- 
row, high, painted windows, admitting only a dim 
light, throw a sombre hue over the dark and heavy- 
walls and arches and pillars of this solemn edifice. 
The roof, both of the nave and side aisles, displays 
the beams and joists, and, without any covering or 
ornament, is painted with the rest of the building. 
The church derives its interest from the monuments 
and ashes of the noble dead which it contains. 
Here rests, at last, the dust of the much injured 
Galileo, which was first buried in the open square 
of unconsecrated ground in front of the church, and 
which was, not without much opposition, removed 
by his family to its present resting-place, almost a 
century after his decease. His monument, which 
is of marble, exhibits his bust resting on his sarco- 
phagus, which is supported by two images repre- 
senting Astronomy and Geometry. But neither the 
design nor the execution of it made any very favor- 
able impression on my mind. The ashes of the 
great and good man alone, however, are sufficient to 
make any spot sublime. 

'' Opposite to this, is the monument of another, 
scarcely less great, equally amiable, and with whose 
memory our associations are more exchisively agree- 
able. The dust of Michael Angelo here rests, in a 
sarcophagus surmounted with his bust, which is 
said to be an excellent likeness, and supported at 
each end and in front by a mourning figure, rep- 
resenting Sculpture, Painting, and Architecture. 
Above the monument is a small fresco, said to be 



142 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

painted by Michael Angelo himself; it is generally 
admired. 

'^ As in the case of Galileo, however, it is the 
dust of Michael Angelo that hallows the spot. Al- 
though ^ Dante sleeps afar,' his monument in this 
church, is one of the finest that adorns this holy 
place. It is of pure white marble, — a sarcophagus, 
surmounted with a statue of the poet. On the ped- 
estal, are two large, beautifully shaped images, one 
bowed down, in the attitude and with the expres- 
sion of sorrow ; the other erect, and ascribing honor 
to the greatest poet. Near this is a monument of 
Alfieri, by Canova. It is of a design, somewhat simi- 
lar, but of oval forms, and is not well conceived, nor 
successful. 

^' At a little distance is the tomb of Machiavelli. 
The monument, which is esteemed ^a noble speci- 
men of simple and chaste composition,' consists of 
the statue of the historian and politician, reclining 
on his sarcophagus, and weighing a sword against a 
roll of paper. There are, also, many other fine 
monuments of men more or less great and worthy, 
but which, as I passed them without any particular 
observation, I must now pass without any descrip- 
tion. 

** The church of Santa Croce is a place to inspire 
one with awe and reverence, and to raise in his 
breast emotions pure and elevated. It is said that 
Alfieri first felt the love of glory, while walking in the 
sanctuary where he is now buried. From these holy 
precincts, we turned to visit, for a moment, the an- 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 143 

cient government house, and where, as is said, in 
chambers connected by subterranean passages with 
Santa Croce, the dark tribunal of the Inquisition 
was held. It is now converted into a prison^ and 
we were assured, that all the memorials of olden 
time had long since been removed. I know not why 
or how it was, but our curiosity and desire to see 
the awful spot were not encouraged ; and we drove 
away to visit objects more agreeable to our sensibili- 
ties. We visited the Royal Academy of Fine Arts, 
'founded by the grand duke, Leopold, in 1764;' 
and still under ducal patronage. Our object was to 
see some of its splendid specimens of Mosaic, — to ex- 
amine the materials of this most beautiful art, and to 
observe the process, by which its productions are 
wrought. In all respects we were highly gratified. 
We saw a fine collection of precious stones, in their 
different stages of preparation, and very neatly ar- 
ranged, — we had a good opportunity to watch the 
progress of the work, as well as to become acquaint- 
ed with the method of the art ; and we saw, also, 
some exquisite specimens, among which was a table 
for the duke, and which employed six men four years, 
and is valued at ten thousand dollars. Its centre is 
composed of a bunch of flowers and fruit. 

'^ Florence^ Dec, 27. — We observed this morning 
a new scene, which yet seemed familiar to us, and 
recalled our thoughts to our own dear homes,— -our 
native land. The storm which had begun yesterday 
with violent rain, had terminated with snow, which 
now covered the streets c\nd the roofs of the build- 



144 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

ings, three or four inches thick. It was, indeed, very 
moist and fast mehing away. Still it was snow, — 
and as the dissolving element descended in profuse 
drippings from the eaves of the house, or was splash- 
ed into the centre of the streets from the doors and 
sidewalks hy the busy inhabitants, or lay along by 
the walls, as it had been tossed into heaps, it made 
ns feel as if we had been suddenly transported into 
the streets of Boston or of New York, while the chill 
mountain wind, and the distant hills, discerned along 
the openings of the river, glistening with their fresh, 
white covering, realized to our imaginations the vivid 
scenes and transporting associations of a winter in 
New England. ^ * # * # * 

'* Palace PiTTi. — The first object to greet my 
attention was my favorite piece, by Andre del Santo, 
of Christ at the tomb. It looked even more lovely 
than when I saw it first. The sweetness and sim- 
plicity and tenderness of affection, sustained by a 
noble sense of truth and propriety, were the same, 
but seemed more full, and, if possible, more deep and 
permanent, while the firmness and correctness of the 
drawing and delicacy of coloring, were all in har- 
mony with the calm, touching scene, and the char- 
acters it represents. The shades and folds of the 
drapery of a young female form, clad in a pink robe, 
are exquisitely soft and delicate and harmonious. 
Just by this picture, I recognised another friend, 
whom I smiled to see, a Holy Family, by the same 
artist. Like that which I have just noticed, it seem- 
ed more beautiful than when 1 saw it at first. The 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 145 

expression and the whole appearance of the little 
children is exceedingly lovely, with all the simplicity 
and playfulness of nature ; while the maternal look 
of the mother, her affectionate watchfulness and 
fidelity and tender concern, combined with strong 
good sense, subdues the soul. One would love here 
to linger around the Tomb of Jesus or to dwell in 
the Holy Family. I would that I knew more of 
the favorite artist who has charmed my feelings and 
won my esteem. He seems to me to be among paint- 
ers, what Goldsmith is among poets, — always cor- 
rect, always chaste, always sensible, always affect- 
ing, while he often ' snatches a grace beyond the 
reach of art.' 

" But I began to feel that I was spending too much 
time among objects with w^hich I was already some- 
what familiar, and I hastened into the hall of Mars, 
— a room not unlike those which I have noticed, 
and containing, like them, thirty or more paintings, 
of equal or perhaps greater merit. The first object 
that arrested my attention, and fixed my roving eyes, 
was a Holy Family, by Raphael. He is the Milton 
of painters. And this piece surpassed every thing I 
had before seen or conceived of. The colorin^^ is 
delicate in the highest degree. The outlines are 
finely drawn, with freedom and precision. Tlie 
countenances are nobly conceived, and the expres- 
sion combines dignity with loveliness, in a manner 
which I liave never seen equalled. The eyes seem 
to speak, while every feature is full of life and emo- 
tion. Tliere is a softnesss and mellowness, and natu- 

VOL. 1. 13 



146 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

ralness in the flesh, which it would seem impossible 
for the pencil to represent. At the same time, Ra- 
phael has the faculty of giving to his images the 
clearness and transparency of alabaster. The infant 
is, perhaps, the most perfect and interesting figure, 
but an air of elegance is thrown over the whole 
picture. # ^ # * # # # 

^' From this room we passed into the saloon of 
Jupiter, — a room much like the others, and contain- 
ing about as many paintings. One of the first which 
attracted my attention, is a picture by Michael An- 
gelo ; and if I must find for him a parallel among 
the poets, I should say, he is the Homer of painters. 
It is a representation of the Fates, and is conceived 
with wonderful strength, and executed with great 
boldness and vigor. The figures are three old 
women, one of whom is drawing out the thread from 
the distaff", and another stands ready with her shears 
to cut it off*, while the office and occupation of the 
third I could not so well discern. The countenan- 
ces are exceedingly expressive, their features sharp, 
the muscles sunk, the skin withered, and the whole 
face haggard and wan, and the entire expression 
eager, determined and intense. Their hands are 
shrivelled, their dress loose and disorganized, and 
the coloring, corresponding with these forms, throws 
over the whole a most ghastly, witch-like aspect. 
* ^ ^ ^ Like old Homer, Michael 
Angelo seems to have had a genius, that would love 
to range among gods and heroes, above the reach of 
ordinary humanity. 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 147 

" On the next wall of this room, is a picture of 
St. Mark, by Frere Bartolemmeo. It has strength 
and dignity and elegance. The outlines are bold, and 
the coloring chaste, but rich. The expression is 
vigorous and noble. There is something about this 
picture, which, to my mind, looks great. It seems 
done in a style of greatness, — it has an air of un- 
common nobleness, — it looks magnanimous. 

'^ As my eyes were roving around upon the pic- 
tures on another wall, they were suddenly fixed 
upon a small portrait of a female, suspended in one 
corner of the room. I thought there was something 
peculiar in the picture, and that, perhaps, most peo- 
ple would not be particularly pleased with it. But 
at the same time, I felt constrained to confess to my- 
self that I was marvellously interested in it. I 
turned to the catalogue, not without some apprehen- 
sion of mortification, to see if the character of its 
author would sustain the interest I felt in it, when, 
to my surprise and gratification, I found it was a 
work of Leonardo da Vinci ; the first of the works I 
have seen of that great and highly cultivated genius. 
It has some resemblance to the works of Raphael, 
especially in its coloring, — perhaps it has some of 
his faults; but the figure is finely drawn, the colors 
delicate and chaste, and the expression that of deep, 
subdued and tranquil, but warm, pure and dignified 
feeling. This room contains, also, some of the finest 
specimens of the genius of Salvator Rosa, particu- 
larly a picture of the conspiracy of Cataline, and a 
battle, — a war scene, — a striking picture of car- 



149 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

nage. passion, fury and wild commotion. They are 
both qnite characteristic. 

'• Dec. 28. — With a prospect of being permitted 
to remain longer in the gallery to-day, we took our 
breakfast at the usual hour, and then drove directly 
to the palace. We ascended to the halls without 
delay, and passed through the first and second 
saloons, with only a complacent glance of the eye 
upon the objects which had atforded us so much 
gratification upon our first introduction. In the 
third room, the Holy Family della Seggiola not only 
caught our eyes, but arrested our steps, and held us, 
for a few moments, bound as by a pleasing spell, 
before this charming object, which not only capti- 
vates the fancy at first sight, but becomes more 
interesting the longer it is observed and contem- 
plated. The tender natural affection of the virgin^ 
her deep thoughtfulness, her noble devotion of soul, 
with an expression of lofty hopes and purposes, which 
seem to arise from a consciousness of the dignity of 
her charge, and a just appreciation of the sacred 
treasure she holds in her arms ; the artlessness and 
generosity, and even good sense and large capabilities, 
which seem already to beam from the face of the 
infant Saviour: the more intense emotion of a soul 
more mature, but less capacious, which gives a pleas- 
ing fulness and unity of expression to the counte- 
nance of the little worshipper, the infant baptist, — 
all combine, with the beauty of the work itself, to 
give this picture a power that fascinates and sub- 
dues the soul. In the next room, my attention was 



I 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS, 149 

again arrested, almost upon the threshold, by a sight 
of the Fates, by Michael Angelo. This is indeed a 
painting of extraordinary power. It loses nothing 
of its effect by a second view. The strong expres- 
sion of these superhuman forms seemed to be drawn 
in deeper lines, than when I saw it yesterday ; — 
that haggard face, with half open mouth and broken 
teeth, and staring eye, and squalid countenance, 
and eager look of intense emotion and determined 
purpose, personating a very gyp from the infernal 
world. I seem to see it before me now, frightful as 
the representation of sin, and horrid as the messen- 
ger of death. # # # # * # 

*^ A portrait of a Poet, by Salvator Rosa, quite 
delighted me. It has the romantic sublimity, and 
unity of expression, characteristic of its author. The 
poet is represented as sitting at his table, which is 
covered with papers in seeming disorder, while he 
is wrapped all around in the thick folds of a large, 
dark cloak, his head wreathed with laurel, and lean- 
ing on his hand, and his mind apparently abstracted 
and absorbed in deep thoughtfulness ; a slight hectic 
tinge upon his cheek, at the same time indicating 
the fervor of his imagination, and the intensity of 
his emotion. # # ^ # # # 

*^ We had now finished a hasty view of the fine 
saloons, distinguished by the names of gods and 
goddesses, and passed into the adjoining room, called 
the saloon of the Iliad. It is quite like the others, 
and furnished in the same manner ; — a floor of mar- 
ble or stucco, imitating marble ; two or three large, 
13^ 



150 



LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 



superb Mosaic tables, a vaulted roof, with turrets, 
and ornamented with sculpture, gilded images and 
frescoes, and the walls hung all around with pictures. 
The frescoes on the roof are from scenes in the Iliad, 
and finely done. That on the vaulted arch repre- 
sents Jupiter in the assembly of the gods, proposing 
to them to interfere in the issue of the war between 
the Greeks and Trojans. The collection of paintings 
in this room, I do not think equally choice with 
those we have seen before, but there are a few pieces 
well worthy of notice. 

^^ The portrait of Salvator Rosa expresses much 
spirit and vigor of thought, and boldness of concep- 
tion, — an active, capacious imagination, intense 
feeling, and determined purpose. A portrait of Andre 
del Sarto is quite characteristic, as is another in a 
preceding room, which I should have noticed yester- 
day, representing the painter and his wife. A por- 
trait of a goldsmith by Leonardo da Vinci, is in fine 
taste, — neat, chaste, but rich and expressive. It 
evinces the purity and dignity of the author's mind, 
in a comparatively trivial subject. The head of 
Moses, by Carlo Doici, is nobly conceived and hap- 
pily executed ; the drawing is good, the coloring fine, 
and the expression full of lofty enthusiasm, and calm, 
meek confidence in the power it seems to be address- 
ing. The Glory of Christ among the Saints is a 
noble picture, with much grandeur of sentiment and 
unity of expression. The head of the Saviour, by 
Titian, is one of the best of the kind I have ever seen. 
It is very noble, and the expression divinely pure. 



m 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 151 

I think it should express more determined benevo- 
lence, conscious power, and confidence of final tri- 
umph. 

^' Dec. 29. — There are two or three pictures, 
among those which I saw yesterday, which I did 
not notice last evening, but which I do not wish 
to forget. There is a painting, by Raphael, of the 
Vision of Ezekiel. It is strongly conceived, and 
vividly executed. The prophet is represented as 
borne up by winged beasts on a cloud, his arms 
raised and sustained by a cherubim, and an angel 
also is in attendance by his side. His head elevated, 
and his eyes uplifted, fixed, and gazing into heaven, 
with an expression of enthusiastic, awe-stricken 
expectancy, naturally inspired by a sudden elevation. 
A glowing, supernatural light, falling from above 
and poured profusely around the scene, gives to it 
an awful splendor and magnificence. A contem- 
plation of this picture excites emotions of undefined, 
enthusiastic sublimity. # # * # 

^' From the saloon of the Iliad, where my observa- 
tions terminated yesterday, I passed into the chamber 
of the education of Jupiter, so called, I believe, like 
the other rooms, from the design in fresco on the 
ceiling of its roof. The picture which has interested 
me most, is a painting of ' St. Andrew before his 
cross,' by Carlo Dolci. It represents two rough 
looking men raising the rugged cross, before which 
is the aged, gray-haired saint, kneeling and in the 
attitude of devotion, while the executioner, attended 
by two or three others, is stripping him of his robes. 



152 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

The expression of Andrew is that of meekness and 
fortitude, of kindness and determined purpose, and 
hope. 

^' From this chamber I proceeded to the chamber 
of Ulysses, passing on my left, a small chamber, 
elegantly furnished, and fitted up for bathing. This 
little bath-room is in a style of exquisite beauty. 
The floor is composed of precious, inlaid marble. 
The roof, arched and vaulted, is ornamented with 
stucco and images in bass-relief, and is supported by 
four columns of beautiful dark marble, with bases 
and Corinthian capitals of purest white. A large 
chandelier, apparently of gold, is suspended from 
the centre. Four octagonical statues fill niches in 
the walls, which are also adorned with mirrors, silk 
tapestry and bass-reliefs. To me this room had an 
air of the most refined luxury. But my taste was 
now for pleasures more intellectual and spiritual. 

*' In the hall or chamber of Ulysses, the first pic- 
ture to fix my roving eye, was a representation of 
Christ in the Garden ; and, like the one I have just 
noticed by Carlo Dolci, it represents the Saviour 
kneeling beneath a clump of olive trees, and clad in 
a long pink robe, which hangs gracefully and loosely 
about him in full rich folds, his hands crossed upon 
his breast, and his head bowed, in the attitude and 
witii the expression of prayer. Before him, on a 
dark rock, jutting out from the side of the hill, ap- 
pears the form of an angel, also kneeling, robed in 
blue, with wings tinged with gold and amber hues, 
bearing a cross upon his shoulder, and holding in 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 



153 



one hand a cup, which he seems to be offering the 
Saviour, while a bright golden light flows down 
from the opening sky above. The figures are finely 
drawn, and the coloring is exceedingly delicate. There 
are two pieces in this room, by Salvator Rosa, — 
one of a landscape, with a ruined castle and a bridge ; 
and another of a landscape, with mined towers and 
a sea view, -— which are quite characteristic, and 
which I jnst mention that I may not forget them. 
A demi-figure of St. John, by Andre del Santo, ex- 
presses much devotional and affectionate feeling. 
A head of the Saviour, crowned with thorns, ex- 
presses meekness, benevolence, confidence and firm 
endurance, mingled with extreme agony. It is by 
Carlo Dolci. There is a painting, by Salvator 
Rosa, of the Temptation of St. Andrew, represent- 
ing the saint as prostrate and almost overpowered 
by frightful demons. It is a dark, wild, awe-striking 
picture. 

"In the chamber of Justice, the first object that 
fixed my attention was the Temptation of Jerome, 
by Vosaci. This saint is represented as kneeling 
before his table, on which rests a crucifix and a hu- 
man skull, and beneath the table crouches a lion. 
Over the saint, a cupid is represented in the air, 
driving an arrow at his head ; while behind him is 
a female form, perhaps a Venus, holding an infant 
in her arms, and leading a little child by the hand, 
apparently just coming quickly around him, and 
oversetting a candle in the haste and carelessness of 
the movement. There is also here, a painting of 



154 LIFE AND CHA114CTER OF 

saint Dominic, in prayer in a corner, by C. Dolci. 
Dominic is kneeling, with raised head and fixed 
eyes, with all the expression of fervent, intense de- 
votion, and agonizing prayer, — while before him a 
gleam of lurid light seems to flash up from the in- 
fernal world, revealing hideous spectres rushing for- 
ward to destroy the saint ; and at the same time 
a bright, mild, soft light flows down from above, 
opening hope and winning a steadfast, upward 
gaze. There are several portraits and other pic- 
tures, in this and other rooms which I have seen to- 
day, by Carlo Dolci, all having, I think, his charac- 
teristics, — fine drawing, rich but delicate coloring, 
and tender, full-toned sentiment. 

^* The next room is the chamber of Flora, and 
contains but one picture that I will notice. It is 
also by C. Dolci, — St. John in Patmos. He is repre- 
sented as reclining on a ledge or cliff" of huge, dark, 
rugged rocks ; the sea in view before him, — a large 
eagle resting on a stone near his feet, — a great 
fiery, flying dragon, with many heads, seems rising 
out of the deep, — and above, in the open sky, ap- 
pears an angel, surrounded with a halo of glory, and 
bright, glowing, heavenly light. But the principal 
object of interest in this room, is a sculpture in mar- 
ble, — the famous Venus de Canova. A charming 
figure indeed it is, — a simple expression of chaste, 
sensitive, timid and shrinking female beauty. That 
graceful position, — those fine flowing outlines of 
form and limbs, — that nicely turned ankle, — those 
delicate, tapering fingers, — the gentle bend of the 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS, 155 

waist, as the hand is folded on the breast, — the 
round, full, smooth muscles, — the delicately turned 
shoulders and neck, — all combine to form a most 
exquisite image of physical beauty ; for this, indeed, 
I think is all ; no noble sentiment, no high thought, 
nothing spiritual, scarcely any expression in the 
face, — but physical beauty in form and outline, 
unequalled by any thing I have ever seen or con- 
ceived. 

*^ Returning to the chamber of Prometheus, a 
door on the left opens into a small room, called gal- 
lery of Pacetti, I think, from the name of the painter 
who painted the frescoes. It is the last of the halls 
of painting, — the end of the gallery. It contains 
but a few pictures, and only one which I will no- 
tice. It is by Tiarini Alexandre, of Bologna : — 
Adam and Eve weeping over the dead body of 
Abel. The parents seem distracted with sorrow, 
consternation, and horror. Death was new to them ; 
and the death of a son, and by a son's murderous 
hand, — the scene was awful, incomprehensible ; — 
they are overpowered. Their expression is that of 
maniacs, frighted and frightful. 

*' We now took our leave of these enchanting 
rooms, I am sure, with many regrets that we could 
not indulge the hope of soon visiting them again ; 
and long shall we remember the pleasant and I 
hope profitable hours we have spent in the Palace 
PiTTL The remainder of the day was given to 
reading, relaxation and repose, — and the evening 
has been spent in hurried attempts to secure, on 



156 



LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 



paper, a remembrance of some of the impressions 
made on my mind by the images of beauty and 
grandeur, which I have seen and contemplated to- 
day. 

^^ Dec, 30. — Royal Gallery. — Expecting to 
leave Florence in a few days, we knew that we 
could not examine, or even see all the interesting 
objects which this rich and splendid gallery con- 
tains. We determined to make a selection, and 
chose to begin with the best. Entering the corri- 
dor, we requested to be conducted to the tribune. 
This is a small hall, of about twenty-one feet diam- 
eter, in octagonal form, and covered with a cupola 
through which the light is admitted by small win- 
dows, and so regulated by means of curtains, that 
the pictures may be severally seen to the best ad- 
vantage. The dome of the cupola is ornamented 
with mother of pearl. The pictures are arranged 
around the walls below, and around the centre of 
the room stand the statues. These statues are suf- 
ficient, of themselves, to distinguish this room, and 
give it an interest above all others; — there are 
five, all antiques, — and of marble. The first that 
strikes your eye, on entering the room, is the famous 
Venus de Medici. It is supposed to be of Grecian 
sculpture, and the inscription on the pedestal, which, 
however, is a restoration, but it may have been cop- 
ied from the original, attributes it to Cleomenes. 
It was discovered in the Villa Hadriana in Tivoli, 
in the sixteenth century, and brought to Florence, 
1689. It was broken into thirteen pieces, whichj. 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 157 

were united together, and the parts which were 
wanting, — the whole of the right arm and part of 
the left, — restored by a Florentine sculptor. It is 
a form of most exquisite beauty ; — the limbs round, 
smooth and tapering, — the joints well knit, and 
well turned, — the flesh full and seeming soft, — the 
proportions without a fault, — the symmetry perfect, 
— the attitude easy, and graceful and dignified, — 
the head noble, — and the whole image such as you 
may gaze upon without dissatisfaction. In compar- 
ison with the Venus which I saw yesterday, I think 
it is less sensual, its form is less vohiptuous, its coun- 
tenance is more noble, and the whole image is more 
dignified. Nearly opposite to this, stands another 
statue of similar beauty, and attributed to the same 
author. It is not disputed that it is of Grecian 
origin. Both the attitude and form are delightfully 
easy and graceful. By the side of it is a dancing or 
drunken fawn, the head of which was restored by 
Michael Angelo. It is evidently an antique, and is 
admirable in its kind, the body shrunk, meagre, 
and dried up, — the limbs strained and the whole 
form bending, reeling, and in the attitude of un- 
couth and laughable action. Next to it are two 
little wrestlers. Their forms are fine, and their 
limbs and muscles well displayed. They seem not 
to be in high action, or in the exertion of great 
strength, or in the exercise of any violent passion, 
but rather as if amusing themselves in sportive 
wrestling. And opposite to this, and on the other 
side of Venus, is a liuge, clumsy, powerful form of a 

VOL. I. 14 



158 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

slave, represented as whetting a knife, and in the 
attitude of listening. It is supposed to have been 
part of a group representing the fable of Marsyas. 
It is exceedingly well done. Its square, long form, 
huge, strong neck, short, neglected hair, wrinkled 
brow and squalid countenance, and hard hands, ex- 
press the character of a slave, with strong develop- 
ments of physical nature and strength, and power 
of labor. It was quite enough for me to contem- 
plate these wonderful specimens of genius and art ; 
I had no time to study the pictures. Indeed I have 
at no time been so dazzled and confounded, as with 
this imposing display of the beautiful and the grand. 
It was long before I conld collect myself sufficiently 
to contemplate any one object with steadiness and 
discrimination. Half distracted and intensely ex- 
cited. I soon became exhausted, and taking a tour 
through the corridor, to catch an idea of the arrange- 
ment of the building and its treasures, I left the 
gallery a few moments before it was closed. 

** Jan, 2, 1837. — From these Egyptian cabinets 
we passed to the next opening from the corridor, 
which, as also the next beyond it, is filled all around 
its walls with portraits of painters, chiefly done by 
themselves. We noticed, among others, Michael 
Angelo, grave and thoughtful, wan and full of intel- 
lect. Leonardo da Vinci, very venerable and noble. 
Andre del Santo, full of nature and sentiment, of 
sweetness and simplicity. Salvator Rosa, all spirit, 
activity and energy, erect and elate. Valasquez, 
full of the Moorish Spaniard. Vandyke, open, gen- 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 15^ 

erons and gentle. Gaido, mild, sensitive, almost 
effeminate. Titian, dignified, sensible, manly. C. 
Doici, of intense thought and deep feeling. Anni- 
bal Caracci, with a look of fixed attention and vig- 
orous, discriminating thought. Madame le Brun, 
all vivacity aud sprightliness. Rembrandt, calm, 
sensible, sedate and thoughtful," &c. &c. 

"Florence, January 1, 1837. 

" Dea. & Mrs. C J- , 

" My dear Brother and Sister, 

Mm ^/« ^U atfn .^ .^ ^Y. ^t^ 

^' I wrote my last letter, I think to C , 



the 5th of December, from Genoa, where, according 
to Morse's Geography and the American Preceptor, 
was born Christopher Columbus, the discoverer of 
America, though it is here generally admitted that 
he was born in a small village, named Cogoleto, a 
few miles the other side of Genoa. We stopped at 
the place, and went into the house in which it is 
said the great navigator and discoverer first opened 
his eyes upon a world he was destined to explore. 
It is a small building by the sea-side, and bears on 
the outside an inscription and a portrait, designed, I 
doubt not, to do honor both to him, and to the 
house. If all the world about him had been as this 
house is now, it would not seem strange that he 
should attempt to discover another, at least that he 
should seek a purer atmosphere on the wide ocean. 
At any rate, we were very glad to make our retreat 
as soon as possible into the open air of the streets. 



160 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

In the larger towns, and in the country, too, there 
are many magnificent dwellings, palaces, villas and 
country houses. And the people there seem to \'\ve 
in a style of great elegance and abundance, and even 
of splendor and luxury. But in the villages, the 
houses, so far as I have seen, especially the hotels 
or inns, are exceedingly comfortless and unneat. 
They are very open too, and cold As the weather is 
usually warm, they do not prepare for cold weather, 
and when it comes, it makes their habitations ex- 
ceedingly cheerless. We stopped at one place for 
the night, where it was impossible to get a room 
with a fireplace in it, and we were obliged, after 
a long day's ride, and exposure to a chill, damp 
evening air, to warm ourselves as well as we could 
around a pan of coals, in a room where there was 
not one door that could be shut close. 

*' According to the custom of the country, all 
their floors were paved with brick, and being very 
much worn, broken and dirty, without a rag of 
a carpet, the appearance was not much unlike 
that of a well paved pig-sty. Our accommodations, 
however, in this country are very good. At this 
moment, I am sitting in a chair ornamented with 
silk and gold, in a njagnificent room of an old palace, 
whicli has recently been converted into a hotel. The 
room is, perhaps, twenty feet high or more, and 
large in proportion ; the ceiling arched ^nd painted 
in fresco, with scenes from Scripture and history, 
and ornamented with sculpture and gilding. The 
walls are hung all around with silk tapestry, with a 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 161 

looking-glass eight or ten feet high, and though the 
floor is of hrick^ yet with a good carpet and a good 
fire, it is far from being uncomfortable. I should 
judge from the appearance, that there is gold enough 
about the room to purchase half of your farm. The 
rooms we occupied at Genoa were also very respect- 
able and comfortable. From Genoa we came to 
Pisa, where is the famous leaning tower. Please 
take your books down and show the tower to 

G ;, and tell him, uncle Samuel has stood upon 

the top of it, and had a fine view of the wide plain 
or valley, covered with vines and mulberry trees 
and wheat fields, — of a beautiful river flowing 
through the centre of it, — of the distant city of 
Leghorn, — of surrounding villages and hills, of 
moimtains covered with snow, — of the city of 
Pisa, and of an immense aqueduct four or five miles 
long, built of huge stone, to bring water into the 
city from the hills, because people here in those 
days did not know how to carry water in pipes 
under ground. They thought, if the water went 
down so low, it would never rise again ! not know- 
ing that it will always rise as high as its source. 
So they built, at an enormous expense, aqueducts 
running level all the way, over hills and valleys, 
sometimes eight or ten miles long. I have stood on 
one four or five hundred feet high above the valley, 
arched all the way up. 

*' From Pisa, after making an excursion to Leg- 
horn, we came to Florence, famous as the seat of 
genius and the fine arts, — rich in edifices and paint- 
14# 



162 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

ings and sculpture. Our countryman, Mr. Green- 
ough, resides here, and is preparing, as you know, a 
colossal statue of Washington, to be placed in the 
rotinida of Congress hall, at Washington. I have 
seen the model ; it represents Washington as sitting 
in his chair, holding a sheathed sword in his left 
hand, which he seems to be resigning, while the 
right hand is raised and pointing upward, as if to 
attribute to God all the success and glory of his 
achievement. Tlie country about here is very 
higfily cultivated. The population is very dense, 
and labor is very cheap, and though nobody seems 
to work hard, there is a great deal of work done. 
The land is very much improved by ridging, 
or throwing the ground into ridges with mud, 
flowing and digging, and by means of draining, and 
by irrigation or watering, the water being drawn off 
from the low places, and also brought from high 
ponds and mountain rivers, in small canals or ditch- 
es, all around the sides of hills and dry places that 
would otherwise be almost barren. The princi- 
pal growth is of vines and olive trees, and wheat 
and flax. There are some oranges and lemons 
in sheltered places, but I do not think they thrive 
well here. It is too near the mountains, and in the 
winter is too cold. 



^* Your affectionate brother, 

'^ Samuel H. Stearns." 



REV. SAMUEL H, STEARNS. 



163 



'^ P. S. I hope to return sometime in the spring 
or first of summer, but cannot now tell exactly 
when." 

Note Book. ^^ Jan, 14. — Rain fell during th^ 
night in torrents, and this morning the atmosphere 
was filled with a dark, deep, dense fog. We had 
rather a sleepless night. My watch stopped, and 
the town clocks struck the hour so strangely, that I 
felt completely lost. I lay waiting a long time, in 
anxious expectation of the call of our courier. In 
Rome and vicinity, I am told, the day is measured 
by periods of six hours, commencing at a quarter 
past five o'clock, and here the clocks strike accord- 
ingly. Leaving Ramciglione, we found ourselves 
riding over a barren, champaigne country, varied 
only by gentle undulations, covered chiefly with 
shrubs, and enlivened only by a few herds of horses 
enclosed in a fenced pasture, — herds of cattle 
browsing on the plain, and watched by herdsmen, — 
sheep in their cotes and folds, — some small birds, 
and a few very lonely cottages. The road, too, was 
particularly bad, — wet, soft and heavy. We had no 
doubt that we had now entered upon the Cham- 
pagna di Roma, and were soon confirmed in our 
belief, by the extreme offensiveness of the air near 
some small streams, and over lowlands crossed by our 
road. The air seemed to smell of the very essence 
of malaria. We were obliged to close our carriage 
windows. We were afterwards told, that the offen- 
siveness of the atmosphere, in this place, was occa- 



164 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

sioned by some sulphur springs which rise here. 
The first village which relieved the weariness of 
this dreary waste, lies on a small, rough eminence, 
which rises behind into a wild, rough hill. Near 
this village, which is called Monterosi, we struck 
upon pavement, which, with a few horrible excep- 
tions, continues the rest of the way to Rome. Near 
this place the Loretta and Sienna roads form a 
junction, and we soon found ourselves rolling along 
the ancient ^ via cassia,^ 

*^ We rode directly on, and soon began to ascend 
a long, barren, desolate-looking hill, from the top of 
which we descried, in a dim, foggy horizon, be- 
tween a iew green pine trees, a form which we 
readily and confidently recognized as the lantern of 
the dome of St. Peter's. In a moment we lost sight 
of it, as we began again to descend the hill. It was 
the flitting vision of a dream. The country contin- 
ued, as before, the same ^dreary waste expanding to 
the skies,' and nothing could be seen to indicate our 
approach to the ' Eternal City,' save here and there 
a solitary monument by the way-side, a broken 
shaft, or column, still standing, though a ruin, in 
lonely grandeur, as if to testify to the traveller, in 
each succeeding generation, of an eternity past. 
On the top of one of these, grew some tall grass or 
herbs, projecting in graceful bends far beyond the 
rock which supported it, and waving solemnly in 
the heavy breeze, and a raven or hawk, or slow- 
wing, was, at the same time, hovering above. A 
little further on, and the scene around us had not 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 165 

changed, but in the dim, distant horizon, rose towers 
and turrets and roofs. It was Rome ! What a 
thrill ! But the dull, sterile, death-like plain around 
us forbade all excitement or exhilaration. Monu- 
ments and ruins thickened along our path. As we 
turned a projecting point, on which were piles of 
ancient walls, at which we were gazing, the dome 
of St. Peter's stood full and clear before me. My 
eye eagerly caught the sight and transmitted its 
emotion to my heart. Again the vision fled, and 
again it rose and stood full before me ; and then 
bright, silvery waters glistened in the foreground, -^ 
the waters of the Tiber. My heart throbbed and 
palpitated. In a moment, we were crossing this 
magic stream. We stood over it upon the bridge, 
Ponte Malle ; we were beyond the rolling flood, 
among the villas of the ever rich and proud and 
magnificent city. We rode a mile or two and en- 
tered the gate of Rome, the Porta del popolo, and 
just within it alighted at the Hotel de Tile Brittan- 
ique. 

'^Sabbath 7?iormngj Jan. 15. — Awoke this 
morning in Rome, with a full sense and conscious- 
ness of being really in Rome. What a deep, full 
tide of thoughts, recollections and emotions! Noth- 
ing but weariness and lassitude, such as I felt too, 
could repress the flood. I sal down and read of 
Paul, and thought of Paul and the Caesars. It was 
Paul, however, that now filled my mind ; every 
thing around me, every monument, obelisk, column, 
portico, tower, dome, seemed associated with Paul. 



166 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

After meeting, returning to our hotel, I spent an 
hour or two in reading of Paul, in meditation and 
devotion, and then walked out upon the terrace 
upon the Pincian Hill, directly back of my lodgings, 
to indulge my eye and heart in solitary views and 
musings. Before and around me arose towers and 
columns and domes, — telling of the magnificence 
which has been, by the magnificence which still 
remains among ruins, and survives the wreck of 
conflagrations and wars, and violence and rapine, and 
earthquakes and floods. Above all rose the majes- 
tic dome of St. Peter's, from which deep, full, 
solemn tones of vesper bells swelled on the ear like 
sounds from unearthly temples. The whole aspect 
of Rome is of fading greatness, — yet of greatness 
still imposing, — and still putting forth anew some- 
thing of its pristine strength and splendor. It is as 
an ^archangel fallen, noble though in ruins.' 

*^0 that I were free from the lassitude and de- 
pression, and weakness and pains and encumbrances 
of disease, that my free spirit might go forth through 
this land of enchantment and treasure up its rich 
remains! One singular impression has seemed to 
possess me more than all others, ever since my 
arrival, — an impression of being at the centre of the 
worlds — the source of every thing great, — of good 
and of bad, — the centre and the source! 

^^ Jan. 16. — As preliminary to our appropriate 
business of sight-seeing, we rode out this morning 
to take a general view of the great city, to learn its 
localities, and to catch a glimpse of its magnificent 
objects of interest. 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 167 

*' We ascended a tower, from which is seen the 
finest view of the city, both ancient and modern : 
and with great hilarity I cHmbed even to the statue 
upon the summit, and gathered a weed growing 
between its feet. The view was beautiful, grand, 
sublime, awful, overpowering. Around, lay the 
hills of the seven-hilled city, — the Viminal, — the 
Esquiline, on which stand the baths of Titus and 
the Santa Maria Maggiore, — the Coelion, at one 
extremity of which stands St. John Lateran, and 
near, at the other extremity, the baths of Anto- 
nine, — the duirinal, on which is the papal palace 
and Piazza di Monte Cavallo, — the Palatine, di- 
rectly before us, reverend with ruins and venera- 
ble, — awful with mementos of what was once the 
city of Romulus. On the right, and by the back of 
Tiber, the Aventine, one of the most prominent of 
the hills, — while under our feet we knew was the 
Capitoline, at the extremity of which is the Tar- 
peian Rock. Immediately beneath our eyes lay the 
Forum, like a god in ruins, — three columns of the 
temple of Jupiter Tonans, — the eight Ionic col- 
umns and entablature, and part of the pediment of 
the portico of the temple of Fortune, — according 
to Mrs. Stark, and of Concord, according to others, 
— the monumental colunm of Phocas, — the arch of 
Septimius Severus, — three beautiful, fluted Corin- 
thian columns of Pentelic marble, which mark the 
site, and once composed a part of the Comitia, near 
which was the Rostra, and the Curia, — the broken 
wails and tlie arches of the temple of Peace, — the 



163 



LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 



arch of Titus, — the arch of Constantine, — the Via 
Sacra, — and, terminating this view, the magnifi- 
cent, the subUme, the terribly awful Coliseum, — 
the giant of cruelly and death, — a giant still, though 
in ruins. — Turning from this view, and descending 
the tower, we walked to the extremity of the Tar- 
peian Rock, gathered some plants which overhung 
the precipice, — and then leaving these scenes of 
awe-striking, overpowering sublimity, we hastened 
away to scenes of more recent date, and more daz- 
zling splendor. We crossed the Tiber on the Ponte 
Elia, passed the towers of San Angelo, and stood 
within the Piazza di San Pietro. We were before 
the entrance of the most magnificent structure in 
the world, — we ascended its steps, and entered 
within the door of St. Peter's. All the dreams of 
childhood and youth, respecting this wonder and 
glory of the world, were realized in a moment. We 
actually stood between the columns and beneath 
the dome of the church of St. Peter's, — dazzled, 
awed, confounded. I will not now attempt a de- 
scription or even a record of impressions. As we 
came out, we passed the entrance of the Vatican, 
guarded by Swiss soldiers, in their highland dress, 
and armed with the spear and lance. W^e again 
entered our carriage and rode away. The first con- 
sciousness of personal existence was of the throb- 
bing pain of an aching head. We returned imme- 
diately to our hotel. I threw myself on my bed, 
exhausted, and aching in every limb, and strove in 
vain for composure and rest till the hour of dinner ; 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 169 

since which I have only made a feeble attempt to 
fasten the visions of the day, and by this sketching 
scrawl, secure a clue for the recollections of the 
scenes which have passed before me, and the emo- 
tions which have swelled my breast, and thrilled my 
nerves, and strained my heart. 

** Jmu 18.^ — Commemoration of the Inauguration 
of St. Peter, — of the day when the apostle was first 
installed pope, — and of the day when St. Peter's 
chair was first placed in St. Peter's church. We 
took our breakfast half an hour earlier than usual, 
in order to be in season to secure a favorable stand- 
ing-place (a seat being out of the question for gentle- 
men), to witness the ceremonies. # =* * 

** We arrived at the church half an hour before 
the time for the ceremony to commence, and took a 
stand with other privileged gentlemen, nearly in 
front of the ladies, and close by the great altar. 
OiBcers and soldiers, and priests and friars, and stu- 
dents and visiters and people were just collecting, 
and were seen flitting along the vast nave, entering 
from the chapels, and disappearing behind the col- 
umns, in every direction, with the various aspect of 
every rank, and every variety of costume. A long 
range of Swiss guards, clad in highland dress ; of 
purple, yellow and red, striped, and fantastically com- 
posed, armed with lances, and wearing helmets, lined 
the nave of the church, below the altar ; while com- 
panies of Romish cavalry were stationed on either side 
of the choir, directly in front of distinguished visiters, 
to guard the platform from intrusion. Presently a 

VOL. I. 15 



170 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

burst of music announced the approach of his holi- 
ness. Clad in pontifical robes, with tiara set with 
rich gems and precious stones, upon his head, and 
preceded by lay cardinals, or cardinal deacons, as I 
supposed them to be, and by the college of cardinals, 
he was borne in a chair of state, by twelve men, 
dressed in plain, coarse, unornamented scarlet, at- 
tended by two men, who held aloft, on either side, 
a broad plume, or flat canopy, resembling a peacock's 
tail, and followed by a retinue of priests, deacons, 
officers, servants, &c., &c. With eye closed, and 
downcast countenance, and hands folded or clasped 
upon his breast, save when parted for an instant in 
seeming act of devotion, he moved or was borne with 
the procession, amid music and smoke and incens 
slowly up the nave, to a position in the choir just 
behind the high altar, when he was set down, and 
rising from his chair, his train held by six attend- 
ants, and accompanied by others, moved forward a 
few steps, and kneeled before a temporary altar, 
placed there for the occasion. Meantime, the chair 
was removed and placed just behind me, on his left, 
before a temporary stage, enclosed, and resembling a 
cage, filled with singers. The moment the chair was 
rested before them, and the staves withdrawn from 
the rings, the singers commenced their music, and 
the pope proceeded with his silent devotion. Then 
rising he was conducted to the chair or throne, 
raised on a platform, before a screen, in the centre of 
the choir, prepared for the occasion. The cardinals, 
clothed in scarlet robes, with long trains carried by 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 171 

attendants, and with white fur capes upon tlieir 
shoulders, arranged themselves in seats on the right 
and left, their attendants, clothed in purple, and 
holding in their hands the cardinals' caps, standing 
before them, or sitting upon the steps, at their feet. 
A company of ecclesiastics, in various costumes, and 
apparently of diverse ranks, also seated themselves 
on the steps or footstool before tl)e platform, on which 
was placed the throne of the pope. An ecclesiastic, 
robed like a hishoj), with a mitre upon his head, sat 
by a small temporary altar, i)laced just by one of 
the pillars which support the bronze canopy of the 
great altar. lie was also attended by three others, 
in the richest and fullest dress of oiJiciating [)riests. 
The lay cardinals, as I have called them, ranged 
themselves on the steps around the great altar. The 
bishops, for so 1 designate the mitred [U'iests, chanted 
a portion, which was followed by the music of the 
singers. The pope's tiara had been exchanged for 
his mitre, apparently of gold thread, finely woven ; 
and near him sat the servants of his household, and 
two or thr(;e cardinals, who, from time to time, 
removed and replaced his mitre, o[)ened and spread 
his cloak, or wrapped it closely about him, and ad- 
justed his robe seemingly at pleasure. The cardi- 
nals now successively advanced, with trailing robes, 
followed by their attendaiUs, and, making a circle 
half round the choir, bowed and bent the knee, and 
bent the knee and bowed, and marched up to the 
platform, kneeled upon its steps, bowed and ad- 
vanced, and kissed the pope's finger, received his 



172 



LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 



blessing, bowed and kneeled, and marched, in stately 
and solemn step, back to their seats again. The 
bishops again chanted, and the singers sung, and 
one of the officiating and robed priests took a book, 
and with much bowing and many genuflexions, 
marched boldly up to the pope, and knelt and bowed, 
and kissed his great toe, which was carefully thrown 
open by his attendants, who removed the cloak and 
adjusted the robes, and then held before his holiness 
the book, from which the pope chanted a portion, 
in a fine, full voice, that indicated more energy than 
any act of his during the day. This, or a similar 
ceremony, was repeated several times, and by each 
of the other glittering functionaries, on whom the 
services of the altar seemed chiefly to depend, and 
each of whom was honored in turn, with the special 
privilege of kissing the pope's toe. I could not dis- 
cover that this most honorable member was bared, 
or exposed naked, for the purpose, but I thought 
I saw that the foot was clothed in a shoe of rich 
purple. 

^* At length, came forth the orator. He was a 
young man apparently thirty, or thirty-five, modestly 
clad in black, with a square cap upon his head. 
Preceded by his appropriate attendant, he walked 
slowly up, bowed and knelt, and kissed the reverend 
toe, and, receiving a blessing from the holy father, 
turned aside to a temporary pulpit, and aided by a 
prompter, delivered, with tolerable fluency and grace, 
a short address to the pope, during which there was 
a pause made, and some trivial ceremony. After 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 173 

which came the ceremony of perfuming, or offering 
incense to the pope. The censer was then full and 
warm, and the fragrant smoke of it seemed almost 
overpowering to the aged father, as his mitre was 
laid aside, and his cloak thrown open to receive it, 
and it ascended in full volumes and thick clouds 
above his head. The censer was held before him 
by a cardinal, and next, by another officer. The 
ceremony was repeated upon each of the cardinals, 
who arose and roceived the incense in turn, till 
the smoke and perfume were fairly exhausted, and 
those who were last in order to be thus honored, 
were obliged to content their dignity by simply see- 
ing the cold and empty censer waved ceremoniously 
before them. 

'^ Other ceremonies, less noticeable, were soon 
despatched. The pope's altar was again set, and 
with his attendants and retinue, he left his throne, 
advanced to the altar, kneeled and bowed and read 
with silently moving lips, a chant or prayer, or 
benediction, during which, every good Catholic, even 
the soldiers and guards, stepped one step backwards, 
and kneeled, as in solemn devotion. The chair of 
state was then brought forward, and placed just 
behind the pope, who slowly arose, turned and seat- 
ed himself in it, receiving again the sparkling, gem- 
studded tiara in exchange for his mitre, and, lifted up 
upon the shoulders of those who were privileged to 
carry him, and preceded by his cardinals, was borne 
slowly and solemnly along the great nave to the 
door of the Vatican, when he was again set down, 
15=* 



174 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

and rising upon his feet, walked quickly away, seem- 
ing to rejoice in his escape from the burden and re- 
straint of being used as a show in this solemn farce. 
Soldiers, guards, cardinals, priests, visitors, (fcc. (fcc, 
then dispersed, and the pomp and parade and cere- 
mony were ended. Never was I more disgusted 
with the emptiness of pageantry, or more indignant 
at wilful folly and imposition ; and never did I more 
pity the subject of pageantry, than this poor old man, 
who is used as a pope, to flatter the pride of dignita- 
ries, who receive all his honor, reflected without his 
burdens, and to pamper themselves, by imposing, 
through him, upon the credulity and fears of the 
populace. I stood frequently very near him, and had 
a full, distinct view of his features and expression. 
He is a tall man, rather large, full face, double chin, 
dark complexion, prominent features, and gray hair. 
His look is sleepy and demure, — without energy, 
and without any expression of thought, feeling or 
intelligence. Daring the procession, he kept his 
eyes closed, but, once or twice, at some sudden turn, 
or momentary rustle, he opened them, and looked 
around, with an expression of solicitude, and I 
thought with indications of greater energy than he 
had been wont to exhibit. The priests and ecclesi- 
astics, with all their habituated and assumed appear- 
ance of sanctity, frequently yawned, whispered and 
smiled, and seemed to feel any thing but a personal 
and honest interest in the spirit of the ceremony. It 
was for the benefit of the people. I was struck, too, 
on this occasion of honor to St. Peter, with the entire 



REV SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 175 

neglect, on the part of the functionaries, towards this 
patriarch apostle. There he sat, a bronze statue, in 
his chair, lighted by two ordinary candles, his toes 
almost worn off by the daily kissing of the populace 
and his habitual votaries ; but no one turned aside 
from the procession to do him homage, or pay re- 
spect to his memory. The pope himself passed and 
repassed him, without even a passing salutation. 

'^ Rome, Jan, 23, 1S37. — Near the sonthern end 
of the ancient Forum, and nearly opposite the Basil- 
ica of Constantine, or temple of Peace, stands the 
arch of Titus. It was built by the senate and peo- 
ple of Rome, in honor of his conquest of Jerusalem. 
It consists of a single large arch, and an attic story, 
and was composed of Pentelic marble. Each front 
was originally embellished with four fluted composite 
columns, only two of which, on the south side, re- 
main entire, and there is a part of one of the original 
columns remaining on the opposite side. These 
columns or portions of columns, with the entire in- 
terior, and part of the attic story, are all that now 
appears of the original structure : the marble casings 
and columns of the rest of the building having been 
despoiled, probably for the erection of other edifices, 
and restored with materials and in a style quite dis- 
tinct and modern. The original form and dimensions, 
however, are preserved, and enough remains to in- 
dicate that it was one of the most beautiful buildings 
of its kind. On the attic fronting the ami)hitheatre, is 
the inscription; ^ Senatus — Populusque. liomaii' 
us — Divo, Tito. Divi, Vespasiani F, — Vespasiano 



176 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

Augusto.^ On the frieze is the triumphal procession 
of Titus. Under the arch, on one side, is Titus in 
his triumphal car, and on the other are the spoils of 
the temple of Jerusalem. On the roof of the inside 
of the arch is the deification of Titus. It was under 
this arch that the Roman conqueror rode in triumph, 
preceded by the noble captive sons of Judah, and the 
sacred treasures of the Holy of Holies, when, in ful- 
fihuent of prophecy, he had achieved a victory, 
which put an end to the Mosaic dispensation, ter- 
minated the sacred service of the sacred temple, and 
reduced the favored and peculiar people to abject 
and servile bondage, — to long centuries of disper- 
sion, poverty and degradation. 

*' A few steps from this spot (the church of San 
Giorgio,) flowing under a small path, over which 
small brick arches are thrown, is a rill of limpid 
water, supposed, by tradition, to be the source of 
the Juturna, and of the lake of the same name, in 
which Castor and Polkix watered their horses after 
the battle of Lacus Regillus. This little rill of pure 
water discharges itself into the Cloaca Maxima, giving 
action to a paper-mill in its course. We followed 
the path a few steps, and came to the entrance of the 
great arch of the famous Cloaca Maxima, constructed 
for the double purpose of draining this marshy spot, 
and as a general conductor for the common sewers 
of the ancient city. It is built of immense stones, 
said to have been hewn out upon the Tarpeian Rock, 
laid up without cement, and large enough for a car 
w* h a load of hay to pass under it. It may some- 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 17? 

times be entered by a boat, but was not full, though 
the water was flowing. Numerous small common 
sewers are connected with it and flow into the Tiber. 
This stupendous subterranean corridor, eighteen Ro- 
man architectural palmi in height and breadth, was 
constructed by Tarquinins Priscus, and extended, 
by means of other smaller Cloacse, by Tarqninius 
Superbus. We had no reason to doubt its antiquity, 
for every sense, competent to witness, testified that 
it is exceeding ancient, *#*#=* 

^^ Jan, 25. — At half past two o'clock we rode out, 
and choosing to compensate the shortness of our visit 
by the quality and character of the object visited, we 
gave direction to drive to the Pantheon. It was with 
a thrill of awe, that I found myself in the Piazza, 
before the noble columns of the temple, which has 
so often charmed my youthful imagination, and filled 
my soul with admiration. * * # * 

'* It is so surrounded and built upon, by rude, un- 
sightly buildings, that the exterior can scarcely be 
seen, and the marble with which it was encased 
has been removed, leaving only unsightly brick walls* 
The modern towers, or turrets, by Bernini, also ob- 
struct the view of the dome, and injure the symmetry 
of the structure. But the portico still presents a noble 
aspect, — fair and grand, simple, chaste, beautiful, it 
possesses the mind and fills it with pure and satisfy- 
ing sublimity. Here was realized, in a moment, the 
visions of childhood and schoolboy imaginations. I 
was actually before and in view of the Pantheon, 
whose grand columns and classic proportions, con- 



178 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

structed in the brightest days of the Augustan age, 
have stood and spread themselves, for almost two 
thousand years, and they now stand and display 
their unrivalled beauties. The portico is composed 
of sixteen columns and four pilasters, supporting an 
entablature, pediment and roof. Eight of the columns 
form the front line, and the other eight are arranged 
in double rows behind them, and the pilasters rest 
against the wall. The columns are Corinthian, with 
shafts of Egyptian granite, forty-two feet high, five 
in circumference, and with bases and capitals of 
marble. The portico is one hundred and ten feet 
long in front, and forty-four feet deep. The columns 
and pilasters within, support an entablature and 
small arches, on which rests the roof. The ceiling 
of the roof is now naked. It was formerly covered 
with gilt bronze, and it is believed that Urban VIII. 
took it away, and formed from a part of it the twisted 
columns which support the canopy of the great altar 
in St. Peter's church. 

" The marks of the nails upon the pediments in- 
dicate that this was covered formerly with bassi 
relievi, probably of bronze. The doors of the en- 
trance are bronze, but they are not, it is said, the 
original doors, which were highly ornamented with 
bass-reliefs, and were taken away and lost in the 
Sicilian sea. The interior of the rotunda has also 
been stripped of the bronze which covered and 
adorned its roof, and has suffered several other alter- 
ations. But it is still noble, and fills you with one 
idea of simple, severe grandeur. The floor, which 



REV, SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 179 

is of porphyry, giallo, and various kinds of marble, 
has been raised seven or eight feet, and a corres- 
ponding attic has been raised above the cohimns. 
Recesses have also been cut in the walls, to form 
side chapels, and between these chapels, seven in 
number, are altars placed alternately. The diameter 
of the rotunda is one hundred and fifty feet, and the 
thickness of the walls twenty. The height, to the 
top of the dome, was originally the same as the 
diameter, and the circular opening in the dome, 
which alone admits and diffuses the light, is twenty- 
eight feet. The walls are adorned all around with 
magnificent Corinthian columns of giallo antico, and 
the columns which adorn the side chapels, are, I 
think, of the same material. Those of the altars, 
also, are of giallo, porphyry, oriental granite, and 
various marbles. The walls below the entabla- 
ture are still chiefly ornamented with various and 
beautiful marbles. The ruthless hand of barbarian 
ignorance and avarice has made sad despoliations ; 
yet, after all, one may easily form an idea of its 
primitive glory, and even as it is, I know of no struc- 
ture that inspires one with such complete unity and 
grandeur of emotion. 

^^ Jan, 27.— -TAe Museo Capitolino. ^ * 
The apartment of the Faun has several pleasant 
specimens of sculpture, yet derives its chief interest 
from a statue of a Faun, in rosso antico, which stands 
in the centre of the room, and was found in the villa of 
Adrian. But the object, which abstracts and absorbs 
the interest of all the rest, is in the ^apartnient of 



180 



LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 



the Gladiator,' which also contains many excellent 
pieces of sculpture, but all tame and unworthy of 
notice in comparison with the statue of the dying 
hero, who ^consents to death, yet conquers agony.' 
This statue was found in the gardens of Sallust, and 
is considered, by many, as a copy of the masterpiece 
in bronze, by Ctesilochus, representing a wounded 
man in the agonies of death. The right is a resto- 
ration by Michael Angelo. Bat whether a copy or 
an original, it exhibits the power of the chisel, not 
surpassed by any thing I have seen. The statue 
reclines on the right hand, the left resting on the 
right knee, the leg being drawn up under him. The 
head is drooping, but every limb and muscle is com- 
posed and firm, nerved to the highest degree of en- 
durance, yet scarcely if at all distorted, and appar- 
ently just ready to relax and yield, from mere 
exhaustion. The form is noble and well developed, 
and the outlines are fully and grandly drawn. The 
expression is one of magnanimity and endurance 
almost superhuman. O, how superior to any thing 
which modern genius and skill have produced to 
represent suffering deity in the flesh ! 

'' Feb. 9.— Ascent to the ball of St. Peter's.— After 
waiting until one o'clock for the sacristan to take his 
dinner, we were conducted up a long, circular ascent, 
like a mule path, of one hundred and forty-two low, 
broad, winding steps, to the top or roof of the Basilica. 
Here was presented to our view, the appearance of 
a huge mass or pile of buildings, like a small city, 
with open workshops, workmen, mules, &c., arrang- 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 181 

ed around its walls and balustrades. It would be 
difficult to separate the parts, even in imagination, or 
form any distinct idea of their separate use and rela- 
tions, much less of their combination and symmetry 
as a whole. Such is the aspect of St. Peter's upon 
its roof. I tried in vain to analyze its structure. I 
would have walked around it, but iron gates, roofs, 
towers, and other obstacles prevented me. The view 
of the surrounding country and of the city is grand, 
but did not equal my expectations. It will bear no 
comparison to the unrivalled view from St. Paul's. 
The country around Rome is undulating in its sur- 
face, and presents rather a pleasant outline to the 
eye. But the soil looks light, sandy, barren, uncul- 
tivated, and the whole regiop is desolate. The hills, 
however, and mountains, which bound the view on 
one side, and the sea on the other, contribute to give 
it a picturesque and animating appearance. The gar- 
dens of the Vatican, and numerous fountains near 
the Basilica, are beautiful. The hills and ruins and 
deserted plains of ancient Rome may also be seen 
with tolerable distinctness ; but, on the whole, the 
view is not so good as from the tower of the Senate 
house, or Capitoline hill. We ascended the noble 
dome, and had a grand view of its interior, and of 
the church below, from each of the two galleries that 
surround it. We had here an opportunity of a nearer 
^nd more distinct view of the ingenious and beautiful 
Mosaics that adorn its vault. We continued to 
ascend between the two walls or roofs of the dome, 
where we could observe its ingenious and powerful 

VOL. I. 16 



182 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF / 

architectural form, till we reached even the ball 
under the cross, nearly four hundred and fifty feet 
from the ground. I stood upright within the ball, 
and had a space of a foot or more above my head* 
The ball is perfectly safe, but is fractured and per- 
vious to the light in many places. It has also been 
mended and patched, till it resembles an old worn- 
out brass kettle. The air, from the condensed rays 
of the sun on the outer surface, was very hot, and 
as we could see nothing but through the crevices, 
we soon hastened down. Our sacristan, or cicerone, 
was disposed to hurry us along, and the party were 
weary, so that I felt obliged to turn abruptly from 
the view and reflections which I would fain have 
indulged, upon the roof of the sublimest structure in 
the world. 

'' Feb. 10. — Afternoon, 1 walked across the Piazza, 
to look at some piodern paintings, which are now 
exhibited, by living artists in Rome. The authors 
are not all of Roman origin, but from all parts of the 
continent. There are perhaps fifty or sixty paintings, 
of landscapes, portraits, fancy pictures, &c. But the 
contrast between them and the works of the ancients 
is astonishing, ludicrous, disgusting. A white, glar- 
ing, chalky appearance characterizes them all, — 
while many of them are most miserable daubs, with- 
out meaning, design, drawing or coloring. I am sure 
most of them would be considered a disgrace to any 
pretended artist in our own country. I never saw 
such exhibited there, and am confident that such 
would not be publicly exposed. For instance, a 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 183 

Magdalen, by a Genevese artist, — a portrait, by the 
same, — a peasant girl, by another, — all pnrple and 
chalk, insipidity and smirk. One, the Improvisator, 
is generally approved, and by some admired ; I think 
not, however, by men of taste and cultivation. The 
picture of a female, by a Prussian artist, pleases me 
best. It has meaning and sentiment and nature. 
The drawing is pretty correct, and the coloring soft, 
delicate and harmonious. On the whole, this exhi- 
bition is very instructive ; I would not have failed 
of seeing it. 

" Feb. II. — For a considerable time past, I have 
found myself becoming disordered and debilitated, 
and Providence seems to lay a restraining hand upon 
me. Perhaps I need only a few days of quiet and 
repose, to recover my equilibrium and now exhaust- 
ed energies. In any case, I cannot contend with 
events, — I may not contend with God. 

* He is his own interpreter, 
And he will make it plain.* 

" It is sweet, as days and weeks seem rapidly 
whirling away, to welcome again the return of Sat- 
urday night. May I now enjoy a day of repose, 
both for the body and for the soul ! 

* Welcome sweet day of heavenly rest.' 

Just before dinner, walked a short distance down the 
borso, and afterwards introduced Saturday evening 
with reading a psalm and offering our devotions. 

'' Feb. 15.— Visit to the church of S. Pietro,—* * 
The object which gives special interest to this church 



184 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

is the figure of Moses in a monument to Julius II, 
designed by Michael Angelo, who died soon after he 
had completed the statue of Moses, and executed in 
the remaining parts by Montelupo. The statue is in 
a sitting posture, in an attitude of easy repose, his 
hands gathering his drapery around him, and his 
right arm leaning on the two tables of stone, which 
rest on his knee. His left foot and leg is withdrawn 
and reposingly gathered back under him. His head 
and chest are erect, elate, and his countenance open, 
elevated and animated. The design is exceedingly 
good. The muscles, nerves and veins are developed 
with wonderful power. A long, flowing, clustered 
beard hangs down upon the breast. The forehead, 
though not remarkably high and broad, is prominent 
and slightly wrinkled. The eye-brows are full and 
slightly knit. The features are all prominent, and 
the general expression of the countenance is elevated, 
calm, vigorous thoughtfulness. I had heard much 
of this statue, heard it commended, condemned and 
coldly approved. But my best and highest concep- 
tions of it were more than fulfilled. It is personifi- 
cation of power and majesty. The expression is 
simple, — the idea is one, — it is unrivalled ^rea/nes5. 
My whole soul was filled, elevated, and expanded 
with the view, and I gazed upon it, with fixed and 
silent and almost unconscious admiration, — scarcely 
noticing any thing else, and scarcely susceptible of any 
impression from any other object, till my companions 
had completed their round of observations, and were 
ready to go. There is a black spot on the right 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 185 

knee, where it is said Michael Angelo, when he 
had completed the work, delighted with his own 
embodied conception, and admiring the force of its 
expression, struck it, exclaiming, ^ why don't you 
speak?' I have never before been fully able to 
appreciate the genius of Michael Angelo. Here it is, 
in breathing marble, powerful, majestic beyond de- 
j^cription. This statue reaches the height of awful 
sublimity." 

« RoME,Jan. 28, 1837. 

<< Rev. & Mrs. F J- , 

" My dear Brother and Sister, 

'^I have now been in Rome nearly a fortnight, 
and though I have not yet become familiar with all 
the localities, and have yet seen but comparatively 
few of the innumerable interesting objects of the 
seven-hilled city, I have had an opportunity to catch 
at least, a glimpse of the distinguishing features, and 
to take a general view of the ruined form, of what 
was once the proud mistress of the world ! I have 
stood upon the Capitoline hill, and from the tower of 
the Senate-house have looked down upon the Forum 
below, and around upon the Viminal. the Esquiline, 
the Coelion, the Cluirinal, the Palatine, and the Aven- 
tine Hills, upon the Tiber, and upon the Tarpeian 
Rock. I have walked among the ruins of the Coli- 
seum, and viewed the few still standing, time-worn, 
lonely columns of the Comitium, of the temples of 
Jupiter Tonans, and Concordia, and lingered among 
16* 



186 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

the fallen capitals and broken pillars of undistin- 
guished temples, palaces, dwellings and public edi- 
fices, once the scene of life and splendor. I have 
gazed upon the triumphal arches of Titus and Con- 
stantine and Septimius, upon the monumental col- 
umns of Trajan and Aurelius and Phocas; have 
stood before the classic, beautiful, grand portico, and 
under the noble dome of the Pantheon, which has 
survived the wreck of all around it, and stood almost 
uninjured in its primitive glory, for almost two 
thousand years ; and have lifted up my eyes upon 
the lofty arches and vaults, and far more lofty dome 
of St. Peter's hanging in awful sublimity over my 
head. I have viewed the collections, and glanced 
my eye upon the seemingly countless remains of an- 
cient art, which now adorn the Vatican and the 
Museum, and the Palazzo di Conservatori. I have 
seen, too, the college of Propaganda, the cardinals 
and the pope. 

'' But from all the objects and the scenes around 
me, I gladly turn away, to converse an hour with 
those whom I love in my dear, dear, far away native 
land. I remember them daily, and often think of 
them individually, and anticipate the pleasure and 
the gratitude we shall fee), if I may greet them again, 
all still living, still prosperous, still useful, still in 
health, in their own warm homes. How do you all 

do at M ? Methinks I see you, in your new, 

snug, comfortable house, all bustling, good-natured 
and busy, or quietly seated around your bright fire- 
side, talking over the affairs of the day, framing 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 187 

plans, and making the arrangements of the family, 
or perhaps kindly wondering what has become of 
him, who is over the seas, as well as 

* Over the hills and far away.* 

I see you all now, a thriving, happy group, and I 
almost hear you speak. Do speak out, write to me, 
and tell me how it goes with you. I suppose that 
Samuel is fast growing into a man, and, I hope, a 
good minister. Tell him he must be a good boy, 
and learn to read and write, and get his Latin gram- 
mar, and read through his Virgil and Horace and 
Cicero, and then after he has gone through college, 
he must come away over here, and see where these 
great men lived, where Virgil and Horace sung, 
and Cicero pleaded, and where senates and states 
were swayed by the voice of a single man. Take 

down your map, and show him and A J 

and C where I am, and let papa tell them some 

stories about Rome, and tell them not to forget their 
uncle. 

'* I am very anxious to hear of mother and her 
affairs. I hear you have had hard times in Ameri- 
ca, this season, — an early frost, small crops, and 
every thing dear. But I trust that the bounties of a 
kind Providence have not been wanting to make 
you all very comfortable. You must tell me about 
the church affairs at Bedford, and about your own 
church affairs. Your success in the ministry has 
been very pleasing, and, 1 doubt not, you feel more 
and more, as I do, that there is no higher or nobler 



188 



LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 



employment. I should have rejoiced, if I had had 
health, to spend my life in this service. But Provi- 
dence has been leading me, and is still leading me, 
in a way that I marked not out for myself. What 
is yet before me, or what his designs concerning me 
may be, I know not, — but certainly, whatever is 
ordered by him will be wise and good : — 

' God is his own interpreter, 
And he wiU make it plain.* 

** My health, though not confirmed, and not wholly 
relieved from disease, is, I think, improved, and I 
trust will still be improving. I hope to be able to 
return in the spring or summer, in a condition to be 
useful in some degree, and in some humble sphere. 
But the future we will leave to him whose province 
it is to direct and control it. 

** I am sorry that I let my letter run into such a 
mere scribble. I intended to have given you some 
account of interesting scenes here, but I find I have 
left myself no room. Well, then, let them go, until 
I can tell you about them, viva voce^ in your own 
parlor. * ^ ^ Love to all, and many 

blessings upon you and yours. 

*^ Your affectionate brother, 

'^ Samuel H. Stearns." 

*• P. S. The fields all around us are green, and 
the birds sing merrily every morning, but snow is 
distinctly seen on the distant hills, and the air is 
chilly and damp. It rains almost every day, and 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 188 

colds are very prevalent. I have had such a cold as 
almost to unfit me for going out for several days. I 
suppose the snow-banks lie all around yom* house, 
but with a good snug New England fire, you are 
perhaps, as comfortable as we are.^' 



" Rome, Feb., 1837. 
*«My dear Brother, 

^' We have been in Rome now a little more than 
four weeks, and, notwithstanding the depression and 
disability produced by my cold, I have had opportu- 
nity to see a considerable part of the seven-hilled 
city. Yet I could give you no account of it, beyond 
a meagre catalogue of the different objects of inter- 
est, which have attracted my attention. If I were in 
your warm study, or up in that little chamber you 
have built for me. and towards which I often cast a 
longing look, I might take out the map, and spread 
before you the lines of the eternal city, and walk 
with you from hill to hill, and from ruin to ruin, and 
talk in unrestrained terms of all that is interesting in 
classic or religious associations. I think I would 
first take you to the top of the tower of the present 
Senate-house on Capitoline hill, and near the sits 
of the ancient citadel, and bid you look down on 
*yon fields below, where a thousand years of silenced 
factions sleep.' We would then extend our view 
to the Gluirinal, Palatine and the Aventine hills, and 
to the Tarpeian Rock ; and then, enlarging our circle, 



190 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

we would trace the Viminal, the Esquiline and the 
CoBlion hills, — the limits of aricieut Rome; and 
then, still expanding our view, we would follow up 
and down the winding course of the yellow Tiber, 
we would point out Mens Sacer, and gaze away into 
the distance, upon Mons Soracte, the Alban mount, 
and the frosty Apennines. We might then return, 
and, descending from the Capitol, lounge along the 
Forum, at its base, — the Forum, — ' where still the 
eloquent air burns, breathes with Cicero.' Here I 
would show you the coarse brick walls, which mark 
the site of the ancient Senate-house, and the three 
beautiful standing columns of the Comitium, and 
the six columns with almost the entire fagade of 
the temple of Jupiter Tonans ; and then we would 
stroll away, over heaps of ruins, to half-fallen walls 
of the matchless, the sublime, the awful Coliseum ; 
and, returning, we would march together in triumph, 
as 1 have often triumphantly rode, under the arch of 
Titus, the arch of Septimius, and the arch of Con- 
stantino. These objects have all now become very 
familiar to me, and if your curiosity inquires where 
else I have been, and what else I have seen, I 
might, perhaps, gratify it by telling you I have 
strolled among the ruined palaces of Palatine, which 
once embraced the entire city of Romulus, and after- 
wards was too narrow for a single Caesar. I have 
been down into the baths of Titus and Caracallaand 
Livia, and up into the mausoleum of Augustus, — 
have seen the tomb of Scipio, and wandered around 
the sepulchral monument of Cecilia Metella, and the 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 191 

pyramid of Caius Cestus, — have seen the site of the 
house of Maecenas, and of Horace and Virgil, — 
have strolled through the gardens of Sallust, — have 
stood in the temples of Vesta and Minerva, and he- 
neath the broad dome of the beautiful Pantheon. I 
have been up into the ball of St. Peter's, and gazed 
around upon the broad plains of the Romana Cam- 
pagna, and upon the Mare Mediteraneum, — have 
been down into the cell where Jugurtha was starved 
to death, and Peter was imprisoned, — have stood upon 
the spot where Paul is said to be buried, and visited 
the sequestered valley in which he was beheaded, — 
have seen the very stone (don't you doubt it?) upon 
which his head was stricken off, and drank water 
from one of the three fountains which miraculously 
gushed forth at each bound of the decapitated head ! 

— more marvellous still, I have seen the pillar on 
which the cock crew when Peter denied his Master ! 
the very table, yes, certainly, the very table on which 
the Lord's Supper was instituted, and the flight of 
steps over which our Saviour was dragged into the 
presence of Pilate, and upon which scores of votaries 
are seen climbing upon their knees every day. I 
have seen, too, multitudes of the priests of ^ Babylon,' 
the cardinals and the pope ; have seen the latter kiss 
his finger, and the former his great toe ! I would 
like also to tell you of the glorious treasures of art 
and genius I have «een, — the works of Raphael and 
Michael Angelo, and the sculpture of the ancients, 

— the Gladiator, whose ^ manly brow consents to 
death, yet conquers agony,' — the Laocoon, * a father's 



192 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

love, a mortal's agony,' — and the Apollo, ^ god of 
light and love and poesy,' — but I can only touch 
your imagination, and refer you to your own recol- 
lections." 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEAKNS. 193 



CHAPTER IX. 



SICKNESS AND DEATH. 



Mr. Stearns took a severe cold while at Florence, 
in the early part of the winter. This was, doubt- 
less, aggravated by over-exertion and exposure in 
the exciting employment of *^ sight-seeing," and by 
those strong emotions which the scenes and objects 
he daily witnessed must have produced. But the 
weather, while he was at Florence, was exceedingly 
trying to his frail constitution. The atmosphere 
was cold, damp and chilling, such as penetrates and 
dispirits and disorders an invalid. On the first of 
January he writes : " Even now, though roses and 
other flowers are blooming in the gardens, the 
mountains and hills all around are white with snow, 
and the air feels exceedingly chill. It is not like a 
New England winter, but it is almost as uncomfort- 
able, with frequent rain, hail, sleet, and even snow, 
though it melts almost as soon as it falls.'' The 
thermometer, on the third of January, at Florence, 
was four degrees below zero, and ranged during that 
week, every morning, from one to four below. 

Jan. 4. Mr. Stearns writes in his Note Book : 
'^ The weather lowery, the air chill and frosty and 
penetrating, giving rise to a conversation upon the 

VOL. I. 17 



194 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

climate of Italy, in which I remarked, that I would 
not advise a friend with delicate lungs to pass a 
winter in Italy for the sake of a blaiid atmosphere." 
Feb. 16, he writes from Rome, in a letter to his 
friends in America : '^ The air of Italy is not always 
that bland, congenial, balmy breath, of which poels 
sing and rhapsodists exclaim. In the winter, it is 
often damp, chill and piercing. I do not know, that 
I ever felt a harsher, more penetrating, subduing 
wind, even on the coast of New England, in the 
month of April or May, than that which blew upon 
us most of our time, in Florence, from the snow- 
clad hills which surround that city. And, since we 
came to Rome, though it is all verdure around us, we 
are not beyond the sight of hoary hills and snow- 
capped mountains, — gelidcE 7Jiont€Sj — and the at- 
mosphere, though much milder and sofler than at 
Florence, is exceedingly chill and moist, just such 
as opens the whole frame, and exposes one to the 
influence of weather. Colds have been very preva- 
lent here, especially among strangers, and I have 
suffered my share. A severe cold, bringing with it 
cough, and all the aggravated symptoms of my dis- 
ease, has nearly subdued me. It has wholly unfitted 
me for exertion, and prevents me from giving utter- 
ance to my feelings, in writing to friends. Yet, 
with the exception of a few days, it has not pre- 
vented me from going abroad daily, and I am now 
beginning to hope that the worst is over. As it is, 
I have much occasion for confidence in a Father's 
providence and protection. But you see, that in 



RET. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. H5 

flying across the ocean, or running down into Italy 
from the cold clime of the North, one does not 
necessarily escape the thousand ills that flesh is 
heir to.'' 

" Rome, March 14, 1837. 
" My dear Brother, 

'* The mail of last Thursday brought me, from 
you, a very kind, welcome, and cheering letter, and 
with it many interesting, thrilling, touching recol- 
lections of boyhood and early youth. I seemed to 
live those scenes over again, with all their exciting 
interests concentrated into one short hour. 

*' I was much gratified with the pleasing repre- 
sentations you gave me of home and its delightful 
scenes. Surely, Providence has taken a very kind 
and faithful care of the family, during my absence. 
Your account of their health and happiness filled 
my heart with gratitude and joy. My prayers were 
all answered, my desires all gratified. 

^' I was delighted, also, with your report of the 
ordination at Bedford. The little flock has again a 
shepherd. The good people, contrary to the fears 
of many friends, and the confident, boasting predic- 
tions of their enemies, have procured and settled an 
able, amiable, faithful pastor, — and one with whom 
we may take sweet counsel, as a Christian, a schol- 
ar, a gentleman and a minister. In all this I rejoice, 
yea, and I will rejoice. 

** And now, my brother, I wish I could give you 
as pleasing and cheering account of myself, of my 



196 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

health and prospects. I know my friends are wait- 
ing with much solicitude for my return, and 
indulging high hopes of my health and future 
usefulness. They are hoping to see me return to 
them soon, free from the debility and depression of 
disease. — hale, robust, and prepared both to do and 
to endure, in the active business of life, — to be a 
blessing to them, to the church and to the world. I 
have cherished such hopes, nay. indulged such 
expectations. You know I have all along been 
sustained by a sentiment^ that I should ultimately 
recover, and be of service in the church. That 
sentiment does not wholly desert me. But my 
judgment is decidedly against it. When I wrote 
last, I had been sulfering some time the effects of a 
severe cold, induced by a damp, chill atmosphere, 
and perhaps aggravated by exposure and over-exer- 
tion. I hoped, however, that I should soon revive. 
But in this I have been disappointed. My cold has 
abated, — but some of the symptoms of my disease 
have returned upon me. as an armed giant, — with 
depressing and overwhelming power. 1 have scarcely 
been able to do any thing, but simply endure, since 
I wrote you last. I am now, however, a little 
better, and it is ^oss/6/(5 that nature may rise with 
iavigorated strength. Ought I to expect so much? 
Is it not more probable, that the disease will still 
retain its dominion over me? Must we not now, 
having tried every probable means of recovery, 
make up our minds to yield to what seemed to be 
public sentiment, before I left my native shores, and 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 197 

which, perhaps, we ought to have regarded more, 
that Providence requires me to sit calmly down and 
be content to 'preach by example,' — by patient en- 
durance ? I write not thus to dishearten my friends, 
— I am sorry to sadden them, — but merely that 
we may be prepared for such an issue. Frankness, 
affection, mutual interest and confidence seem to 
require it.'^ 

** Naples, April 7, 1837. 
" My dear Sister, 

** The climate in Naples I find more congenial 
than in Florence or Rome. And I hope I shall soon 
regain so much strength and freedom from pain and 
distress, that I shall be able to pursue my journey 
homeward with considerable comfort. 

'' Yesterday, I had the pleasure of receiving a 

good long letter from Mr. L . I read it with 

emotions of deep and thrilling interest, and not 
without a tear. I rejoice that he has become the 
settled, responsible, and authorized pastor of the lit- 
tle flock of Christ in which I was nurtured, and 
with which so many of my most loved friends are 
still gathered. Very dear to me is the little church 
of my native village, with all that is connected with 

that church. And I trust that brother L will 

long be blessed, and a blessing, in his sacred relation 
to it. I would almost say to him, in language which 
seems too holy, ^ Lovest thou me 7 Feed my sheep ; 
feed my lambs.' I cannot but feel, that in this 

event God has kindly answered our prayers; the 
17# 



198 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

prayers both of the living and the dead. The same 
letter cast a shadow over me, by the saddening 
news of the death of our aged and venerable uncle 
L . Indeed the news was not altogether unex- 
pected. I could scarcely hope that he would sur- 
vive another winter ; and after I concluded to 
remain abroad till spring, I did not much expect to 
see him again, though I thought of him daily, and 
made him a subject of my daily prayers. But how 
much soever the event was anticipated, and how 
much soever we might be prepared for it, still, when 
the aged, decayed tree which we have been accus- 
tomed to look upon from childhood, and around 
which have gathered some of our fondest feelings 
and recollections, has actually fallen, and we hear 
the crash and look up, there seems to be a void in 
the garden of friendship and affection, that looks 
dreary and desolate, — and we cannot but feel sad. 
We remember that tree when it was verdant and 
fresh, and we played under its branches and regaled 
ourselves with the rich fruit it dropped into our 
lap, or scattered plentifully around us. But decay 
has passed upon the tree, and we who now mourn 
its fall will soon decay also. 

** Please make my apology to and others, 

for not writing more frequently. At present, I am 
scarcely able to endure the fatigues and irregulari- 
ties to which we are daily and necessarily exposed. 
I do but very little, yet every day I cripple and am 
ready to fall. 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 199 

^^ Naples is a very interesting place, and more 
pleasing to me than any I have seen in Italy. It is 
quite peculiar ; if I were well I should enjoy it 
much." 

From this time, Mr. Stearns's health seems rather 
to have declined constantly than improved. On his 
return to Paris, June 5, he writes : — ^* After a long 
and painful and anxious, though in many respects 
pleasant journey from Naples, by Leghorn (steam- 
boat), by Florence, Bologne, Venice, Milan, Turin 
and Geneva, I arrived safely in Paris on Friday, P. M., 
and secured lodgings just in season to get my letters. 

'* I rejoice in the account they give of home. All 
is well. A kind Providence takes care of you all, 
according to my daily prayers. So he does of me, 
but in a different way. My disease has come back 
upon me, with a giant grasp, and my strength crip- 
ples under its power. I often doubted, if I should 
ever reach Paris. I was just able to endure the 
journey, with much kind nursing and care. I could 
do nothing, not even (from Venice) write a line in 
my Note Book. But a good Providence brought 
me on. 

*' I am desirous of returning home, as soon as I 
may safely, — I trust very soon. I think it is the 
will of Providence, that I be received again into the 
bosom of my friends, on my native shores. But I 
am very contented, wherever I am, — contented to 
wait the issue. I think my faith was never stronger. 
Love to all, — love, love to all ! '' 

Mr. Stearns had, at this time, many friends in 



200 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

Paris. He was so anxious to return honne, that they 
made every effort to secure him a passage in the 
packet, which was to sail from Havre on the 20th, 
and in which some of his travelling companions had 
secured herths. But the vessel was already crowded, 
and no berth could be obtained. This was a severe 
trial to his feelings, especially as lie now perceived 
that it would be unsafe for him to attempt the 
voyage for several months. But the disappointment 
was ordered in mercy. For had he set sail on the 
20th of June, he would probably have never reached 
his native shores. He put himself under the care of 
a distinguished German physician, and composed 
his mind to remain in Paris till autumn. His situa- 
tion was made pleasant, and every attention and 
alleviation was afforded him, which he or his friends 
could desire. 

On the I9th, he writes, ** What is before me, my 
brother, I cannot conjecture. But I cherish the 
hope of seeing home in October, — hope, — * hope 
deferred,' — but still hope^ it is a sweet solace to 
hope. Do not doubt, however, that I have every 
thing to amuse and instruct and comfort me, and 
make me feel contented where I am. Give your- 
self not the least uneasiness on this account. I am 
surrounded with friends who are continually drop- 
ping in to look after me, or give me a newspaper, or 
tell me some American news, and say a kind word, 
and smile and cheer my spirits. I have, also, an 
unusually agreeable sense of the presence of our 
Protector and Father in heaven who feeds the 



REV. SAMUEL. H. STEARNS. 201 

ravens and clothes the Uly, feeds and clothes you, 
— and feeds and clothes me. O, no ! I am far from 
being unhappy or discontented here. You may feel 
as easy about me, as if I were of your own company, 
as thriving and prosperous as your utmost wishes. 

I ride out every day under the care of Dr. ; 

my friends here entertain hopes of my entire recov- 
ery. And, notwithstanding I have been given up, 
and have given myself up so often, there is still an 
impression, a clinging impression, that I shall one 
day have health enough to be useful a short 
season." 

Mr. Stearns htsd been raised from the borders of 
the grave so often, and had been so constantly sus- 
tained by the hope, though at war with his judg- 
ment, of final recovery, that, strange as it may now 
seem, his friends in America were poorly prepared 
for the letter which follows, and which is the last 
he ever wrote. 

<* Paris, June 28, 1837. 
" Dear Brother, 

^' My last as well as former letters must have 
led you to anticipate the time as near, when we 
shall be separated, not by the wide waves of the At- 
lantic, but by the wider ocean which separates 
earth from heaven. My old physician, on my last 
visit, on Monday, intimated that he thought my 
lungs seriously and permanently aflected, and seem- 
ed to decline to prescribe any further. On my 
return to my lodgings, my friend who accompanied 



202 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

me, Mr. A , who understands French perfectly, 

and had a private interview with the doctor, for- 
mally and kindly announced to me the decision. I 
certainly received it with entire calmness and com- 
posure, and during the evening following had none 
but calm and pleasant thoughts and bright anticipa- 
tions It did not take me by surprise ; it produced 
no nervous agitations, no alarm, no feeling of hurry 
or confusion, none of resistance. I rather felt that 
now the day of sorrow is past, and a little season 
of joyful anticipation remains. And such has been 
my prevailing feeling ever since. I may be wrong, 
but I feel that the day of self-examination, and 
self-humiliation, and anxious mourning for sin are 
past. I have had a ' heart deceitful and desperately 
wicked,' — ^ thejonrfeof my heart has deceived me,' 
and it has been difficult for me to detect its real 
wickedness. But 1 think I have seen it, — I am 
sure I have seen enough to overwhelm me! My 
spirit has fainted and died within me, — in regret, in 
grief, in penitence. I have thrown myself, freely 
and cordially, into the arms of him who came to 
seek and to save that which was lost, — to save 
sinners, even the chief, — to save me; — and there 
I feel safe, I feel that he forgives me, I feel that he 
loves me, I feel that he will keep me to the end, 
and bring me safe to his Father's mansion. And I 
feel satisfied, — happy! I have no ravishing de- 
lights or anticipations, though my imagination is, at 
times, sufficiently excited. But I have a calm, un- 
questioning confidence, — a sweet, holy, heavenly 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 203 

happiness. All with me is bright and cheerful for 
this world and for another. 

'^ I am here surrounded with kind friends, who 
will take good care of me while I continue, and 
who will take good care of what little I have with 
me, and send all safe home. 

'* Mrs. C , who died here in March, was taken 

home by her friends. Mr. H , my old class- 
mate, whom I met in Rome, bright and brisk, but 
who died here a few days since, is also taken home. 
It is a very unimportant matter, but perhaps the 
same disposition might be made of me." 

After some further suggestions and directions 
respecting his remains, and the few temporal mat- 
ters he had yet to arrange, he proceeds : — 

*^ It is doubtful if I shall write again with my 
own hand ; and now I was about to write farewells; 
but really it is unnecessary, and I am too much ex- 
hausted. I restrain my heart, and forbear to give 
pain ; but I have not one sombre feeling, one dark 
or gloomy emotion." 

He then goes on with some suggestions which he 
thought might contribute to his mother's happiness, 
• — especially in reference to the management of the 
little homestead, which is her living. His thoughts, 
on this subject, are expressed with a particularity 
which at once discovers the composure of his mind, 
and the generous interest which he felt in those who 
survive him. The following is a specimen : — 

*^ I think mother has made a good arrangement 



204 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

for the summer. It is well to have the same man, 
from year to year, if he proves good. I was rather 
pleased with B ; I hope she will find him faith- 
ful and capable and enterprising. Is he making any 
new encroachments on the Old Bush Pasture ? I 
think he should advance a little every year. * * 
" It is a great comfort to me that Mr is set- 
tled at Bedford, and will live with mother in such 
favorable circumstances, and that she will enjoy her 
own daughter in the young minister's wife. 

TT Wr %nr TT ^T T^ ^fr 

^^ Oh ! I can write no more ! And yet I must, — 
I must just say farewell, through you to all. 

" Farewell, my dear, good mother ! We shall 
soon meet with your dear husband and my beloved 
and revered father. The path to heaven from Paris 
and from Bedford is equally sure, he will be look- 
ing out for us, — kind angels will convey us thither. 
I thank you for a mother's care and a mother's love ; 
I could never thank you enough. But we shall 
know more of this, and talk more of this, and feel 
.more of this, I think, in heaven. Till then, my 
good mother, farewell ! 

''Sisters and brothers whom I love, all, all, with 
a brother's heart, farewell ! I rejoice that we all, 
happy family, have hope to meet in heaven. Oh ! 
should one be missing there ! I will not indulge 
the thought ; no ! we shall all meet ! Till that 
happy thanksgiving meeting, beloved sisters and 
brothers, farewell ! 

"Uncles and aunts, farewell! — and farewell, 



RE\r. SAiMUEL H. STEARNS. 205 

warm-hearted one, who, if assiduous attention, labor 
and love could have held me back from the grave, 

would long have held me fast, — aunt B , I 

thank you. Farewell ! We shall soon meet again in 

joy. 

^' Farewell, my cousins ! many of whom I know 
and love and respect. 

*^And farewell, my dear little nieces and nephews ! 
Many of you will never know your uncle Samuel. 
But your parents will tell you of him, and you will 
cherish his memory. May you be early sanctified 
and prepared for heaven, that happy place, where 
your uncle hopes to meet and know and love you 
all ! The Friend of little children bless you, and 
make you very useful women and men, and very 
happy ! 

*^ Farewell, dear little delicate Ellen, my special 
care!* Don't forget your own good mother, nor 
uncle Samuel. Be a good little girl, — love your 
Saviour, — always obey God, — do good to every 
body, and be very happy. My dear little niece, 
farewell ! 

*^ I love the Old South, and have never ceased to 
remember them in my prayers, once and again, since 
the morning I became their pastor. A pastor's feel- 
ings are peculiar. I wish I could address them, and 
say to them, farewell ! I rejoice that they are in 
the care of so good a pastor. The Lord bless them 
and him. I would also say a grateful farewell to 

* Only child of Mr. Stearns's eldest sister, who died in January, 
1833. 

VOL. I. 18 



206 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

my special benefactors, Mr. S , and Mr. P , 

and Mrs. G . My beloved, affectionate, gene- 
rous friend, , I bid you a full-hearted fare- 
well 

** And now, my dear brother, I feel as if I had 
done a violence to myself this niorning. I certainly 
did not think of writing half so much. I should 
not have thought it possible, — but the Lord has 
wonderfully sustained me, and I could no less. It 
is done, — and I throw off all care, all burden from 
my mind. 

** I have only now to say to you, my eldest, long- 
tried, affectionate brother, farewell ! The Lord 
bless you, in your person, in your family, in your 
people, in your profession — it is a glorious one ! — 
in your own soul, — and we shall talk more of these 
things another day. You have from me a very 

warm, affectionate, fuU-souled farewell? W , 

farewell ! " 

Mr. Stearns having made up his mind that he 
must die in a foreign land, and having arranged all 
his affairs, temporal and spiritual, and transmitted 
his last farewells to his friends in America, now 
sunk very rapidly, and was daily waiting to be 
gone. 

Some particulars respecting his sickness, and the 
closing scene, have been forwarded to me by two 
gentlemen, who, though comparatively strangers, 
watched over his last hours, with a brother's fidelity. 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 207 



•< Paris, July 19, 1837. 
*' Rev. and dear Sir, 

*' Prom the letter we forwarded you, nearly 
three weeks ago, from your late brother, Samuel H. 
Stearns, you will be undoubtedly prepared for the 
melancholy news it now falls to our lot to commu- 
nicate. This dear brother departed this life on the 
evening of the 15th (Saturday), at about six o'clock. 
Since he wrote you, he gradually became weaker, 
and his disease evidently was making rapid pro- 
gress ; however, up to Wednesday, he continued 
taking his ride. On his return on that day, he was 
so exhausted as to be obliged to be carried up stairs 
to his room, and soon to be put to bed. From this 

time he sunk rapidly. Mr. L sat up with him 

on Thursday night, and Mr. A performed the 

same office on Friday night. We thought him very 
ill, but even on Saturday morning did not expect 
the time of his departure v/as so near. At eleven 
o'clock on Saturday, we removed him to the sofa, 
and his bed was arranged ; after which he was re 
placed in it. He then appeared to sleep for a short 
time. At three o'clock we noticed that he breathed 
hard, and asked him if we should change his posi- 
tion. He replied with a feeble voice, 'yes.' We 
accordingly did so, and, almost immediately after, 
he became senseless. We addressed to him various 
questions, but he paid no attention to them, and did 
not appear to hear them. In this state he continued 
until he died. Although his breathing was hard, 



20S LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

yet he did not seem to suffer pain, but calmly and 
peacefully breathed his last. We closed his eyes, 
and saw that the necessary duties were performed 
as they should be. On Monday the 17th, his fune- 
ral took place. It was attended by about eighteen 
or twenty of his countrymen. The Rev. Mr. Kirk, 
from Albany, performed the religious services. The 
mortal remains of your brother now lie in the 
cemetery called Pere la Chaise, and the dispositions 
have been so made, that his remains can be sent to 
America, should his friends there desire it. Of the 
state of mind of your dear brother, during his ill- 
ness, we have, thus far, said nothing ; a few words 
will suffice. He was calm and collected. His firm 
confidence in his heavenly Father never failed him ; 
and his trust, — humble, hearty and peace-giving 
trust, — never forsook him. He told the writer, 
but a few days before his decease, that he had not 
a moment of doubt or fear ; and the night previous 
to his departure, he said to me, ^ I long to fly, to fly 
into my Saviour's arms.' He was visited by vari- 
ous clergymen, during the last two or three weeks 
of his illness, and all agree in saying, it was a priv- 
ilege to be with him, and delightful to hear him 
talk of his * going home ' to heaven. Although in 
the dispensation of Providence, he breathed his last 
among strangers, and in a foreign country, we can 
assure you, that every kind attention that his situa- 
tion required, and that friends could show, was paid 
him. This we mention, thinking that it would in 
a great measure comfort those near and dear to him, 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 209 

and whose privilege and delight it would have been 
to have ministered to his comfort and wants. But, 
dear sir, he had him, who 

' above all others 
Well deserves the name of Friend,' 

for his consolation and support ; and this faithful 
Redeemer fulfilled graciously his promise. He did 
not leave or forsake him. In witnessing the illness 
and death of this friend, well may we say: 'Let 
me die the death of the righteous, and let my last 
end be like his.' 

*' We now enclose you some of your brother's 
hair, which he requested might be sent to his mother. 
Offering you and other afflicted relatives and friends 
our sincere and thankful sympathies on this mourn- 
ful occasion, we subscribe ourselves, 

" Very truly, your obedient servants, 

''J. T. A , 

»^j, P. L ." 

The following is a letter of Christian sympathy, 
to the bereaved mother, from Edward E. Salisbury, 
by whose magnanimity and kindness Mr. Stearns 
was induced to visit and pass the winter in the 
south of Europe, and who for many months of alter- 
nate hopes and fears, as also in the last extremity, 
to use the dying words of Mr. S., ^* has shown him- 
self such as the world exhibits but rarely." 



18* 



210 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

*< Geneva, July 25, 1837. 
*^ My dear Madam, 

*^ It is the will of God ! — how consoHng must 
that thought be to every Christian soul ! You have, 
undoubtedly, received the intelligence, and you are 
in mourning for a son. I would not have allowed 
another to communicate to you the sorrowful tidings, 
had I heard of the event in time for me to Write by 
the last packet. Permit me, now, to taste with you 
the cup of grief, and to look with you, to those 
bright consolations which blend themselves with 
the darkness of this dispensation of our heavenly 
Father. We did earnestly hope, and so did your 
son, that a winter passed in the south of Europe 
would avail to raise him to health, and enable him 
to resume those sacred duties after which his heart 
so fondly longed. His letters must have told you 
all the hopes and fears which alternately came over 
him, as month after month passed away, — but all 
was in vain. # * # On our return north- 
ward, it was too evident that he was failing. Up 
to the time of his arrival in Geneva, however, 
he continued to visit all objects of interest in 
the places through which he passed. It is a de- 
lightful reflection to us, that in all the changing 
scenes of his journey, in view of all the great works 
of nature and art disclosed to him, it seemed to be 
so habitually his practice to pass from the earthly to 
the heavenly, and to regard the former, in all its 
fairness, and in all its grandeur, in a spiritual light. 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 



211 



as an emblem and type of the latter. Doing so, he 
enjoyed much, and I doubt not that he holds a 
higher place in heaven, grasps with quicker and 
fuller comprehension the glories of that world, for 
thus gathering out from so large a variety of ob- 
jects here below, those traits and foretastes of the 
higher, the infinite, the perfect, wherein God has 
not left himself without a witness, ever present 
among men. But ah, here another thought comes 
up with bitterness; — had he not consented to ac- 
company us from Paris, he would have met your 
embraces, and those of all his beloved friends at home, 
in the bosom of his tenderly-attached family ! Dear 
madam, what can I say ? I do but touch a wound 
which I cannot heal. Was it not the hand of his 
Father, and your Father, which led him away, never 
to be restored to your sight on earth ? May that 
same hand pour in upon your afiiicted spirit its own 
healing balm ! Here in Geneva we saw him for the 
last time, and never shall we forget his parting 
words, as we shook hands repeatedly, and his face 
bespoke a strife of feelings not expressed, * Farewell, 
farewell, God bless you, the God of your fathers 
bless you ! ' 

^^ I will not detail the trials of his interviews with 
the physicians in Paris, — all must be known to 
you. After their opinion was given, he sank rapidly, 
was unable to write, and soon could not speak, for 
a few minutes together, without great difficulty. I 
should have gone on to Paris to be with him, thinking 
I might, perhaps, administer something to his com- 



212 



LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 



fort which another, less familiar to him, could not ; 
but # # ^ # # He had, how- 
ever, every thing which could be provided for him 
in a foreign land. #####* 
These things are all trifles, still, in comparison with 
the sources of consolation which he had in the in- 
tercourse of his own soul with his God and Saviour, 

At one time, Mr. A , asking him if his mind 

remained calm and his confidence undiminished, he 
replied that he had not had a moment of fear or 
doubt; that on the contrary he enjoyed peace ; and 
then he added, ^ It is all of grace, the grace of God.' 
On the morning of the day which proved his last, 

Mr. A wrote to me : * Mr. Stearns is happy, — he 

does not complain or murmur, but says he ^* longs to 

fly to the arms of his Saviour." ' Mrs. B of 

Paris, in aletter to one of your son's travelling com- 
panions, writes: ^Yesterday, Mr. A was sent 

for, to be with him in his last moments, which are 
probably very near, now, — he is unable to leave his 
bed, and all his symptoms announce that sinking 
nature is about to give up the struggling spirit she 
has so long imprisoned. His mind has been, ever 
since his physician pronounced his case hopeless, in a 
most calm and peaceful frame. Hisaflfairs, temporal 
and spiritual, were entirely arranged ; he has told me 
repeatedly that he would not have one circumstance 
diflFerent, or one pain less if he could. He feels that 
it is his Father who orders all for him, and feels, 
too, that all is for his good, and absolutely necessary 
for him. His situation is truly enviable ; his course 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 213 

ended, his work done, his soul ready and longing to 
be admitted into his Saviour's presence, feeling, that 
though an unprofitable servant, he is yet accepted 
through Christ his Lord.' Have you not then, dear 
madam, every thing to rejoice your heart in the 
midst of its sorrows ? We weep with you at this 
event, — nature must weep, but joy cometh in the 
morning ;^ — yes, there will be a day of reunion. If 
we follow the course of our departed friend, we shall 
all spend an eternity together in ever-increasing bliss 
and power to enjoy. Please to remember me with 
ajffectionate respect and sympathy to your sons and 
daughters around you still, and allow me for Mrs. 
Salisbury and myself, to subscribe, 

** Yours respectfully, 

^' and with affectionate sympathy, 

^^ Edward E. Salisbury." 

Mr. A——, the gentleman who penned the letter 
of July 19th, and whose disinterested attentions to 
the sick stranger during his last residence in Paris, 
friends can better appreciate than reward, has since 
returned to America. A few additional particulars 
have been gathered from him personally. He saw 
Mr. Stearns on his return to Paris, and was fully 
impressed with the belief that he was far gone in 
consumption, and could never reach home if he 

made the attempt. Mr. A , with other friends, 

persuaded him to defer the voyage to America, and 
assisted to make arrangements for his comfort in 



214 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

Paris. He also attended Mr. Stearns in his visits to 
the physician. At the fourth interview, the Dr., 
who was a German, and spoke the French language 
imperfectly, announced his opinion of the case to 

Mr. A , in the presence of Mr. S., though the 

physician's patois was not understood by the latter. 
On their way home^ Mr. Stearns inquired of Mr. 
A , what the physician said. Mr. A , think- 
ing that it would be rash and hazardous to declare 
the whole truth at once, evaded the question. Mr. 
Stearns became earnest and a little excited, as he 
always was, when a person, from whatever motive, 

answered him by indirection, and said, ^^ Mr. A , 

you do not know me, if you think I need to be 
deceived, and am not prepared for the worst. I 
would' deal honestly with you in such a case, and 
have a right to expect that you will do the same by 
me." He then asked him if the Dr. thought the dis- 
ease had reached his lungs, — for up to this time Mr. 
Stearns, notwithstanding his cough, and other alarm- 
ing symptoms, was full in the impression that his 
lungs were sound, and that he might hope for recov- 
ery, though hope must, for a time, be deferred 

Upon this, Mr. A , as delicately and kindly as 

possible, announced the opinion that his lungs were 
seriously diseased. Mr. Stearns, with the rapidity 
of lightning, perceived the truth of his condition. 
He was silent about two minutes, and then said, with 
great composure, '^ now I am happy, — I know what 
to look forward to.'^ From that time he was never 
heard to express a single sentiment of dissatisfaction 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 215 

or disappointment, but appeared uniformly sustained, 
cheerful, hpjpy. In the evening the conversation 
was renewed, and the physician's opinion more fully 
disclosed. The next day he wrote his farewell let- 
ter. When, with much difficulty, he had completed 
this last labor of affection, he gave it to his friend to 
forward. " There," said he, ** my last duty is per- 
formed." ^^ I shall never forget," said Mr. A 

^^ the expression of his countenance, as he said this, 
and put the letter into my hands; he seemed per- 
fectly happy !" 

During all his sickness he was calm and full of 
peace. The evangelical protestant clergyman, whose 

meeting Mr. A attended, used to visit him, and 

say that he had '^ never witnessed such an instance 
of resignation and Christian happiness in his life." 
Many other clergymen went to see him, and all 
agreed in the above opinion. Mr. Stearns exhorted 
them all to preach the gospel, — -said that he ^^ had 
been an unprofitable servant,— that he wished to 
recover only that he might preach the gospel. He 
thought he could preach now as he never did before. 
His own salvation he considered wholly of grace." 
He also told his watchers, that ^^ he had a father and 
a sister and other friends in heaven, who would be 
looking out for him," and seemed with great satis- 
faction to anticipate the meeting. 

The night before his death, Mr. A-— — sat by his 
side and read to him several hymns and passages 
from the Bible. Among others, he read the 556th 
of the Village Hymns, beginning : — 



216 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

*' When languor and disease invade 
This trembling house of clay." 

When he had pronounced the last two hnes of the 
fifth versC; — 

"Sweet to lie passive in his hands, 
And know no will but his; ' 

Mr. Stearns responded, '' sweet, sweet, sweet," and 

desired Mr. A to pause a few moments, probably 

that he might retain the sentiment, and stay his soul 
upon it. He also read to him the first chapter of the 
second epistle to Timothy. Having read the twelfth 
verse, '^For I know whom I have believed, and am 
persuaded that he is able to keep what I have com- 
mitted unto him against that day," Mr. Stearns 
desired him to pause on those words, as before. He 
slept but little during the night, and was able to 
converse but little. Of the next day, — and of the 
closing scene, particulars have already been given. 
After three o'clock, P. M., on Saturday, July the 
15th, he seemed to suffer no pain, but, breathing 
shorter and shorter, went so gradually and gently, 
that his friends could hardly tell what moment was 
the last. He died about six o'clock on Saturday 
evening, — the hour of the day and of the week 
which of all others he loved. 

After a few months, the remains of Mr. Stearns 
were forwarded, according to his suggestions, to his 
native country. The last offices of respect and affec- 
tion, with services appropriate to a family funeral, 
were paid him by his afflicted friends, at the church 
of his brother, in Cambridge, on the afternoon of 



I 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS 217 

Dec. 26th5 1837, that day being the third anniver- 
sary of his father's death. A delegation from the 
Old South church was present, and the Rev. Mr. 
Blagden, Mr. Stearns's successor in office, led the 
thoughts of those mourners, in the funeral prayer. 

An invitation had also been presented by the Old 
South church and society to deposit the body with 
its honored predecessors, in their tomb in Boston. 
But as Mr. Stearns did not die their pastor, and had 
been with them in actual service but a little season, 
and as he was known to have given, for various 
reasons, a decided preference for another spot, — and 
as some of his friends and acquaintances thought 
they should derive a melancholy pleasure from being 
able to visit the green grave of the dead, the invita- 
tion was declined. 

The mortal remains of Mr. Stearns, after so many 
wanderings, were followed, by the mourners, to 
Mount Auburn, and were committed to their long 
repose beneath its shades just as the evening twilight 
was shedding unwonted loveliness upon the spot : 

■■ " Manibus date lilia plenis ; 



Perpurios spargam flores — 
et fungar inani 



Munere." 

iEn., VI, 883— 886. 

In this beautiful cemetry, among whose hills and 
dales you have so often roved and mused and com- 
muned with God, my brother, may your ashes rest 
and await the resurrection ! In the storms of winter 

VOL. I. 19 



218 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

and in bloom of spring, all day and all night long, 
may an unseen presence watch by the sleeping dust, 
and never quit the charge, till — 

" The last trumpet's joyful sound ! 
Then burst the chains with sweet surprise, 
And in thy Saviour's image rise ! " 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 219 



CHAPTER X. 

FURTHER NOTICES OF HIS CHARACTER — CONCLUSION. 

For the gratification of those, who may inquire 
further respecting the opinions, habits and distin- 
guishing characteristics of Mr. Stearns, brief notices 
are annexed. 

As a theologian, he cannot be classed with any 
of the schools. His philosophy differed in some re- 
spects from them all. It was his intention, if life 
should be spared, to present to the public a system 
of ethics which, for several years, he had been study- 
ing and maturing ifi his own mind. He hoped, by 
long and discriminating reflection, to establish some 
principles in moral philosophy, in which all intelli- 
gent, experimental Christians would agree. 

Nor did he, while cherishing opinions of his own 
break recklessly away from the authority of estab- 
lished writers, such as Calvin, Edwards and Locke, 
but rather looked up to these venerable names, with 
reverence approaching awe. At the same time, he 
examined their doctrines and modes of explanation, 
with severe and patient scrutiny, and made it a rule 
never to adopt their symbols in expressing truth, till 
satisfied that these were as exact and comprehensive 
and transparent, as any he could obtain. This, 



220 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

together with the maxim never to color truth, or ex- 
press 7nore than he believed, is among the reasons 
that his discourses are so free from the technical 
language of theologians. On the other hand, he was 
not anxious to avoid, hut rather chose the received 
phraseology, where he was certain that it would 
convey with perspicuousness and precision his own 
opinions. 

Mr. Stearns was cradled in theology. His parents 
and grandparents and many relatives were of the 
clerical profession. He was expected, when a child, 
to give some account of every sermon which he 
heard on the Sabbath. He was encouraged to read 
all sides of prominent theological questions, and ex- 
press his views with the utmost fulness and freedom ; 
he of course entered with spirit into the conflicting 
sentiments of the day. While yet a child, he made 
choice of his father's God, and, with his parents, was 
a believer in *'the doctrines of grace.'' During the 
time of his connection with the university, he ad- 
hered, without opportunity for much examination, 
to the principles in which he had been brought up. 
But when he commenced his professional studies, 
his inquiring mind, instigated by views and influences 
which had just surrounded him, demanded a fresh 
and thorough investigation of his faith. In doing 
this, while resting the hopes of his soul upon Christ, 
he took, intellectually^ the ground of skepticism. In 
after years he doubted the expediency of this course, 
as inducing a state of mind, not the most favorable 
to the discovery of religious truth. A devout, humble, 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 221 

docile spirit, accompanied indeed with persevering 
study and with an independent but responsible judg- 
ment, should characterize the disciple in the school 
of Christ. It may be as unwise to disbelieve every 
thing, till, against all the objections ingenuity can 
raise, it is proved^ as to believe every thing, till, 
against inclination and prejudice and determination, 
it is disproved. The medium is, doubtless, the safest 
course. Let the student in theology open his heart 
to the reception of the truth, — let him invite the in- 
fluences of heaven upon his studies, — let him diink 
deeply and often of the spirit of Christ, and then, 
without disputatiousness or indifference, examine the 
doctrines of religion as thoroughly and as indepen- 
dently as he can. 

Mr. Stearns, according to the plan he had consci- 
entiously formed for himself, disputed the ground, 
step by step. He made it a principle to admit nothing, 
however pleasing to pre-conceived opinions, till it 
was proved, and so proved, that to his mind contro- 
very could not overthrow it. The process by which 
he obtained satisfaction was long, laborious, and 
painful. His text book was emphatically the Bible. 
And by degrees, his views became clear, on all 
prominent points. He sympathized more fully with 
the principles of tlie Assembly's Shorter Catechism 
than with any other systematic exhibition of faith. 
But while he considered it important to a good min- 
ister, that he should be tlioroughly persuaded, on all 
points of metaphysical divinity, and while he ad- 
hered, with unyielding attachment, to the opinions 
19* 



222 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

which, after a long and patient stiidyj he had fornfied, 
he believed that the truths held in common, by 
evangelical denominations, were preeminently the 
truths of the Bible, and should chiefly be illustrated 
and enforced. 

His favorite theological treatises were Butler's 
Analogy, Calvin's Institutes, Edwards on God's 
Chief End in Creation, and Appleton's Lectures. 

His most frequent themes of discourse and Christ- 
ian conversation were the doctrine of free and un- 
merited forgiveness of sin to the penitent, by and 
only by the obedience and death of Christ ; and the 
special and universal providence of God, which gives 
the field its flowers and the bird its notes, which 
numbers the hairs of our heads, and directs our 
steps. This latter sentiment, about which for a little 
season he had some perplexities, was commended to 
his understanding and his heart, by the circumstan- 
ces among which his heavenly Father had disciplined 
him, as well as by the full revelations of the Old 
Testament and the New. It was so inwoven, in 
after life, with his habitual feelings, as to become 
a marked characteristic of his public and private 
religion. 

Mr. Stearns's piety was of the simplest character. 
He used no cant phrases, — attempted no exhibition 
of superior goodness, — was above parade and affec- 
tation, — and made it a rule, both in the pulpit and in 
conversation, never to express, by tone, language or 
gesture, an emotion which he did not feel. Stran- 
gers, though they might observe in him a propriety 



RET. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 223 

of Christian demeanor, would not, probably, discover 
at once the depth and fervor of his piety. But no 
one could be long in his company, without perceiv- 
ing something of that fulness and heartiness of re- 
ligious sentiment, and that calm and peace-giving 
confidence in Christ, which marked his Christian 
course, and was so conspicuous in his dying hours. 
His feelings towards God were those of strong 
filial love. He seemed to make him his confidant 
in all things. For many years before his decease, 
he had scarcely a doubt that he was a child of his 
heavenly Father. But he considered himself an 
unworthy child, who needed chastisement, and who, 
through much tribulation, must enter into rest. 

He never seemed to be afraid of death, and often, 
when ill, his soul stood waiting, in sweet assurance 
of hope, to be gone. 

In early life, he kept a journal of his religious ex- 
periences, but abandoned the practice eventually, on 
the ground that to write and think so much of one's 
self must have a tendency to make one selfish. All 
his papers of this class were destroyed by him, seve- 
ral years before his death, for reasons just suggested, 
as well as to prevent the possible exposure, at some 
future time, of his most sacred feelings. 

Mr. Stearns's piety was meditative^ more than is 
usual, perhaps, at the present day. His nature, dis- 
ease, education, maxims of self-improvement, and 
habits of life, disincHned him to constant action in 
the crowd. He loved rather to muse in retirement, 
to study his own nature, and fashion his character 



224 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

to the example of Jesus. When, from a sense of 
duty he did go forth, he labored often in the spirit 
of a martyr. Impressions have been made by his 
preaching which time will not efface ; and it is be- 
lieved, that few ministers of his age have been the 
means of guiding more souls to Christ. For his im- 
mediate friends and fellow-townsmen, his emotions 
were often irrepressibly strong. 

Mr. Stearns considered the Sabbath a day of sacred 
rest for the body and the mind ; nor would he ever, 
at home or abroad, allow his own convenience to 
trespass upon its hallowed hours. This season, when 
not called to labor in the duties of his profession, he 
used to spend, as also the evening before the Sabbath, 
in contemplation and devotion, and in reading, ordi- 
narily, no book but the Bible. 

His preparations for the pulpit were made with 
labor. He imbued his soul with the subject of his 
discourse, — reflected much upon the sentiments he 
was about to offer in prayer, — studied the hymns and 
the passages of Scripture which he selected to read, 
and baptized his spirit into the spirit of the Lord's 
day. There was, therefore, a remarkable unity and 
appropriateness and pathos in his pulpit services. 
The chapter which he read in the opening of public 
worship in the morning, without comment, as it was 
expressed with an emphasis which gave the senti- 
ment, and a degree of emotion which secured sym- 
pathy, was often heard by his audience with soul- 
subdued attention. 

His sermons were written after much study and 



I 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 225 

preparation of mind. Many of them were arranged, 
composed and finished, in all but the language, 
before a word was committed to paper. His texts 
were not chosen as ^^a peg to hang a sermon on," 
but rather as a germ of truth, which he was to 
unfold and exhibit in maturity, with its fruit. His 
discourses are, for the most part, a single sentiment, 
presented in its relations, illustrated, enforced and 
applied. Hence, it is often said of him, that he 
rarely preached a discourse which was not long 
remembered. 

'^ His prayers," says the author of an obituary no- 
tice of him, in the Boston Recorder of Sept. 15th, 
1837, ^^ were, perhaps, even more remarkable than 
his sermons. There was no parade of feeling or of 
words in them, but, without formality, a striking 
exactness of expression, a childlike confidence in God, 
and a deep tone of religious emotion. He showed 
in his prayers the influence of affliction. Sometimes 
his feelings in supplication were like the sighings of 
the wind in a harp ; for he was always of a pensive 
spirit, and conscious suffering occasioned a beautiful 
sadness even in his religious joys." 

His style of composition, when he wrote with 
care, was full but not diffuse, transparent but not 
sparkling, elevated but not hard to be understood. 
He neither sought to bring into the pulpit the ele- 
gances of a classic diction, nor allowed himself to 
desecrate the messages of God with coarse and irrev- 
erent familiarity. His thoughts and the medium 
through which he presented them, were alike digni- 



226 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

fied and tranquil. There were no lightnings in his 
discourses, which flashed and all was dark again. 
A graceful movement of emotion and sentiment, cor- 
responded in progress with his subject. His course 
was that of a calm, clear river, which reflects the 
trees and cottages and grazing herds of its banks, and 
gives them up in the deep, rich hues of twilight 
loveliness, flowing on, filling and deepening and 
growing in majesty and power as it goes. 

His manner^ also, in the pulpit was calm. He 
made but few gestures, and those for exposition, 
rather than emphasis. Free from rashness, rudeness 
or rant, his appearance was that of one who, in con- 
scious un worthiness, was awed, and delivered his 
sentiments, as the messages of God. 

Mr. Stearns's mind when unexcited, was thorough 
but not rapid, discriminating in its reveries and self- 
controlled in its musings. When slowly roused, — 
like a good ship, in a strong wind, kept steady by 
the ballast, and ever obedient to the helm, — it bore 
forward with a safe but unfaltering determination. 

His exuberant imagination was chastened by a 
classic and Christian taste. And what is remark- 
able, while he possessed all the excitability of the 
poetic temperament, he loved severe science, for its 
own sake. Metaphysical studies, and above all, the 
philosophy of man, as an immortal being, were his 
delight. He applied himself to them for discipline, 
for pastime, for truth. 

He read or looked over many authors and on vari- 
ous subjects ; he studied a chosen few. In almost 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 237 

every branch of learning he was a general scholar, — 
in his own profession a thorough one. A striking 
illustration of the sentiment, '* Some seek truth in 
books, some in learned men, but what they seek for 
is in themselves," he studied with unforced appHca- 
tion and developed and matured his own soul. In 
doing this, he found aid as well as pleasure, in 
biography, especially the biography of distinguished 
Christians. 

Mr. Stearns's tastes and habits were retiring and 
contemplative. Though much in society, and often 
thrown by circumstances into the crowding and 
bustling world, he preferred the fields, the twilight 
walk with a sister or brother, or the unrestrained 
and uncompelled musings of his study ; and never 
thought it solitude to be alone. 

He appreciated the sympathies and affections of 
home, and though there was a tinge of melancholy 
upon his countenance, even at the domestic hearth, 
his playful humor was ever throwing light upon the 
shades. The society of his parents, to whom he 
was a companion when a child, was especially his 
delight. His father's character, as a pastor and a 
man, was the model which he most faithfully studied, 
in the formation of his own. 

Though reserved, among strangers, and cautious, 
perhaps to an excess, against " committing himself 
to any man," no one enjoyed more highly the con- 
verse of amiable and cultivated minds. No one en- 
tered more readily into the feelings of warm and 
good-hearted but humble worth, and no one, in all 



228 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

circumstances, was more faithful to confidential 
trusts. His tastes were so pure and exalted, his 
grateful affections so full, even to overflowing, that 
without improper compliances, he made friends 
wherever he went. They ministered to his wants, 
as if they were receiving rather than conferring an 
obligation ; and when he died there were those who 
shed the tear of bereavement in the Old World as 
well as in the New. 

The characters which he most loved and admired, 
were those who regarded truth, integrity, propriety, 
and honor, — who were independent, but not inflex- 
ible to reason, — above disguise, in their dealings, 
but not coarse and obtrusive, — elevated without 
haughtiness, and generous without self-gratulation. 
With the mean, the trickish, the double-tongued, the 
selfish, he had scarcely a Christian's patience. 

His character was marked by completeness and 
proportion. Its beauty consisted rather in the com- 
bined whole, than in any of its separate parts. 
Among the more prominent qualities was reverence. 
He could not be abashed by assumed consequence ; 
but the great and the good, and lawful customs 
sanctioned by antiquity, and sacred seasons, and sa- 
cred places, were treated by him with unfeigned 
respect and becoming awe. To his mind, there was 
dignity in years. *' He rose up before the hoary 
head, and honored the face of the old man." It will 
readily be inferred that he was no ultraist or radical. 
He thought it safer, as a general rule, to cherish the 
wheat, till it should grow and exhaust the soil, than 



REV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 229 

run the risk of destroying the crop, by rashly rooting 
out the tares. 

There were some striking contrasts in the proper- 
ties of Mr. Stearns's mind. He united extreme cau- 
tion and reserve to the most childUke simplicity, — 
a love of retirement, which was almost seclusion, 
to superior delight in elevated society and kindred 
sympathies, — a fondness for the severer studies, 
attended by an unyielding patience in the pursuit of 
principles, with that sensitiveness to impression and 
warmth of imagination which is the prerogative of 
genius. 

There is no desire to represent the subject of this 
notice as a perfect character. Mr. Stearns had his 
faults, but they were not conspicuous, nor all of them 
without apology. Perhaps, he relied too much upon 
his own judgment. But then his opinions and 
plans were matured by no ordinary reiflection. He 
shrunk from the active employments of his profes- 
sion. But to his imagination, its duties were too 
great and its responsibilities too awful, for the 
healthiest constitution rashly to undertake tfiem. 
If he loved fame, he despised unmerited popularity. 
If he sometimes offended by the severity of truth, 
he never took shelter beneath the disguises of hy- 
pocrisy. 

No man was more sensible of his own imperfec- 
tions. No man studied himself with more pertinacity 
and discrimination. No man was less disposed to 
excuse his own faults, or, generally, more charitable 
towards the imperfections of his fellow-men. 

voL.i. 20 



230 



LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 



Mr. Stearns's character was not assumed, but 
formed ; not created by his own efforts, but devel- 
oped, pruned and trained. He was always himself. 
Above imitation, he cannot profitably, in all things, 
be imitated. 

Mr. Stearns was about five feet and ten inches in 
height. His carriage was erect, — his form light 
and spare, — his head small and well turned, — his 
eyes blue, large and rolling, — his face habitually 
pale, — his brow overcast with a pensive but not 
joyless expression. When animated, his counte- 
nance, not remarkably prepossessing by nature, un- 
derwent a surprising change. The cheek flushed, 
the eye stood out, the frame became tremulous with 
emotion, and, at times, the whole soul seemed to 
look through the face. His features have never been 
expressed on canvass. This, friendship may regret ; 
but there are some traits of his character, and some 
memorials of his piety and mind, which will live in 
the hearts of a few for ever. 

In the death of Mr. Stearns, hopes, long cherish- 
ed and long deferred, have at length been darkened, 
to shine no more. In addition to his natural abili- 
ties he had enjoyed such opportunities for study 
and contemplation, and had been so long under the 
discipline of affliction, — which, when improved in 
a Christian manner, is the best of all schools, to the 
intellect, to the heart, to the conscience, and to the 
progress of the soul in holiness, — that his mind was 
supposed to be stored with many valuable trains of 
thought, which the demands of his profession would 



KEV. SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 



231 



I 



call forth, to the glory of Christ and the church. 
Expectations of his future usefulness were not a 
little increased, during his absence, by that property 
of his mind which fitted him to derive no ordinary 
benefit from foreign travel. He could not witness 
the power of God in the deep, — the awful mountains 
and enchanting valleys of the Old World, — the 
beautiful and magnificent creations of Raphael and 
Michael Angelo, — the ruins of ancient greatness, 
sublime in decay, — and not be exalted by throng- 
ing associations and emotions. The man, whose 
^Mieart throbbed and palpitated'' at its first vision 
of St. Peter's and the Tiber, — the man, whose 
mind, when it woke to consciousness in Rome, for- 
getful, for the time, of Cicero and the Caesars, was 
filled, during all the Sabbath with Paul, — ^' every 
monument, obelisk, column, portico, tower, dome, 
associated with Paul," — must enlarge the bounda- 
ries of his soul with such scenes and imaginations, 
or sink beneath the efi'ort to sustain them. Add 
to all, his prospects of permanent recovery to health 
were thought never so great as during the first eight 
or nine months of his absence from America. The 
home of his childhood already bloomed with the 
expectation of his return. But let us forbear, and 
bid the sweHing waters of grief *' be still ! " He 
is gone ; in the ripeness of his piety, in the flower 
of his intellect, in the bud of his public usefulness, 
to fill that station in another life for which his 
Father in heaven had trained and prepared him in 
the present. 



232 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 

This providence, so merciful in many of its cir- 
cumstances, and yet so trying to the sympathies and 
affections of friends, without one single doubt, is 
just as it should be, Wliy^ after long absence, and 
distant wanderings, the sufferer should have been 
brought on so far in his homeward course,- as to look 
upon the ocean which washes his native shores, and 
dream, with emotion little short t)f rapture, — that in 
a few weeks he should see the greensward by his 
father's door, — why the ship which was to have 
borne him over the Atlantic, was destined with its 
white sails spread, and many companions of his 
journeyings on board, to leave the solitary stranger, 
appointed to die in a strange land, without the 
parental kiss, or a sister to smooth his pillow, or a 
brother to pray by his side, is somewhat mysterious. 
Every attention, indeed, was paid him, by his 
generous countrymen in Paris, and by some who 
understood not familiarly his tongue. But after all, 
my brother, *' paucioribus lacrimis compositus es, et 
novissima in luce desideravere aliquid occuli tui." 
— Tac. Vit. Ag. 

Surviving relatives will participate in his favorite 
walks, and listen to his melting supplications, at 
family prayers, or attempt to sustain his sinking 
health and cheer away his despondency, no more ! 
But they can solace their griefs by profitable recol- 
lections of what he did, what he said, and how he 
suffered. They can bless God, for the unblemished 
reputation and the many pleasing traits of character 
which he possessed. They can imitate his virtues, 



I 



REV, SAMUEL H. STEARNS. 233 

and drink deeply of that spirit which sustained him 
through so much affliction, and was all his consola- 
tion, in the dying hour; and they can hope, through 
the grace of God, if faithful to their trusts, for a 
reunion at last, which can never be broken. 

As for those disinterested strangers and friends, 
who with almost fraternal sympathy, gave comfort 
to the afflicted, in a strange land, — some delicately, 
but without reserve, offering their purse, — some 
with a mother's sedulity studying and preparing 
every needful alleviation, — some dropping in to 
cheer the sick, with a word of news from America, 
to smile upon him, to console him with the prom- 
ises of God, to pray by his side, — others watching 
day and night by the couch of pain, treasuring up 
with care the last words of the departing, — closing 
the eye, and paying the appropriate offlces of affec- 
tion to the remains, — God bless them! and do so 
to them, yea, and more, also, in the time of need ! 

Let the church, on which he shone for a moment, 
as their pastor, and vanished out of sight, — let the 
numerous societies who, for a little season, enjoyed 
his ministrations, call to mind the spirit which he 
breathed, the precepts and doctrines which he 
taught, — and let him whose star was darkened in 
its rising, yet realize, from the unclouded firmament 
in which it shines, the desire of many years, to he 
useful for a little season in the world ! 
20^ 



APPENDIX. 



The following beautiful tribute to the memory of 
Mr Stearns appeared in the Boston Recorder of July 
13, 1838. It could not be introduced into the body 
of the Memoir, without interrupting the narrative ; 
while at the same time it contains so many affecting 
reminiscences, so sweetly and mournfully related, 
that the editor could not deny himself the pleasure 
of presenting it entire to the public. 

LETTER FROM REV. MR. BAIRD TO A GENTLEMAN IN BOSTON, 

« Princeton, N. J., July 25, 1838. 

" My dear Sir, — I avail myself of the first mo- 
ments of leisure which occur to me, to put on paper 
some ^ recollections ' of the late excellent Mr. 
Stearns. I regret that lapse of time and incessant 
occupation have effaced from my memory many in- 
cidents and conversations, which took place during 
the several weeks of daily, or rather of hourly inter- 
course which it was the privilege of Mrs. B. and 
myself to hold with him within the last two or 
three months of his existence on earth. 



236 APPENDIX. 

Our acquaintance with Mr. S. commenced in the 
autumn of 1836, when he came to Paris in company 
with Prof. Stowe, of Lane Seminary. His stay in 
that city, at that time, was very short. But it was 
sufficient to make a most favorable impression on 
the minds of all those who were brought, however 
transiently into his society, in regard to his uncom- 
mon excellence of Christian character, his dignified 
and kind manners, and his richly furnished and well 
disciplined mind. 

In the month of March succeeding, we met Mr. 
Stearns at Rome, whither we had gone for Mrs. B.'s 
health, as well as for objects connected with our 
mission to Europe. In Naples afterwards, and again 
at Florence, we fell in with him in the month of 
April. From the last named city, he returned with 
us to Paris. Our journey lay through Bologna, 
Ferrara, Venice, Verona, Mantua, Aremona, Milan, 
Turin, Geneva, Dijon, &c. As we travelled for the 
benefit of the health of two invalids, our progress 
was not rapid. And it was not until the 2d of June 
that we reached Paris. A sufficient length of time 
was spent in every important place to see those ob- 
jects which were most interesting. With the excep- 
tion of a few days, the weather was as fine as it 
could be, even for that beautiful season. Indeed I 
do not recollect that we had one rainy or disagreea- 
ble day whilst we were on the road ; two or three 
such days only occurred at Milan and Turin. 
Throughout our whole journey, which, comprising 
all its windings, exceeded nine hundred miles, we 



APPENDIX. 237 

were favored with the most charming weather, and 
surrounded at every step, — save during the passage 
over the snow-crowned Mount CeniSj — by the 
beauties of nature just bursting forth into all the 
richness and fragrance of summer. 

I know not that 1 ever was acquainted with a 
man who seemed more fully to enjoy the higher 
achievements of human art, and still more the works 
of nature, or rather of nature's God, than did Mr. 
Stearns. This appeared in the deep and habitual 
interest which he took in visiting every valuable 
collection of paintings, of statues, or other objects of 
curiosity in Bologna, in Venice, in Verona, in Man- 
tua, in Milan, in Turin, in Geneva, and in Fontain- 
bleau. Nothing of real value or interest escaped 
him, when he had the strength to visit it. And it 
was truly surprising that in his state of extreme de- 
bility, he could accomplish what he did. He often 
told us of the intense delight which he had experi- 
enced in visiting the galleries of paintings and 
sculpture which he had seen in Rome and Florence, 
as well as in beholding the splendid achievements 
of architecture which the church of St. Peter, and 
the remains of the Pantheon, the Coliseum, and the 
Column of Trajan so admirably furnish. He had 
naturally a fine taste for the beautiful, and that taste 
had become well cultivated. It was rich enjoyment 
to him to behold whatever was beautiful, whether 
it was found in the works of man or of God. 

We spent several days in travelling up through 
the charming valley of the Po, from Venice to 



238 APPENDIX. 

Turin. The weather was delightful. All nature 
was assuming her most captivating livery. Day 
after day, we passed along through a country almost 
perfectly level, and covered with fields of waving 
wheat, interspersed with mulberry trees planted like 
an orchard, with grape vines entwined among them. 
The road is one of the finest in the world, macad- 
amized almost throughout its entire length, and bor- 
dered every where with rows of elms or other trees. 
Far and wide all the plain seemed like a vast 
garden, laid out on a grand scale. The skies were 
almost without a cloud ; and the genial sun was 
calling forth all the resources of nature. Morning, 
noon and night, the music of the sweetly singing 
nightingale in the adjoining trees, was scarcely for 
a moment wanting to render our journey agreeable. 
In the distance, on the north, the Alps reared their 
lofty heads, whilst the Apennines bounded our 
vision to the south, — both still covered, as to their 
summits, with snow. 

It may well be imagined that Mr. Stearns must 
have enjoyed this scene of surpassing beauty. He 
did so. Often did he raise himself up (for during 
much of the time, especially in the middle portions 
of the day, he reclined his head on my knee, through 
great weakness, and lay on cushions of the carriage), 
and contemplating the lovely view, exclaim, How 
charming, how exquisitely beautiful this is! And 
then, his thoughts, in the most natural manner pos- 
sible, elevating themselves to the glorious Creator 
of ail things, he would utter some delightful senti- 



APPENDIX. 239 

ment or reflection of piety. In this way we jour- 
neyed day after day. The nights were spent at the 
most pleasant and comfortable houses which the 
country afforded. 

The day on which we crossed Mount Cenis, 
we were translated, as it were, from all the beauty 
and warmth and luxuriant vegetation of early sum- 
mer on the plains of Piedmont, into the scenes of a 
profound Russian winter. All things around us 
were covered with snow. On each side of our way 
it stood up like a wall, to the height of eight or ten 
feet. In the evening we descended into the deep 
and cool valleys of Savoy. And after three days 
and a half more, we reached the city of Geneva. 

I cannot describe to you the joy of Mr. Stearns, 
when he found that we were quite out of Savoy, 
and entered into the little republican Canton of 
Geneva. He blessed God that he was once more 
permitted to enter a Protestant country. He noticed 
quickly, as every attentive traveller must, the de- 
cided indications which every where manifest them- 
selves of the superior intelligence and comfort of the 
Protestant Genevans, when compared with their 
Roman Catholic neighbors, the Savoyards. 

And when he had entered the city of Geneva, he 
could hardly be induced to take some repose, before 
he set out to explore that most interesting of places 
in Europe, in his estimation, as well as in that 
of every man who rightly estimates what the glori- 
ous Reformation, begun by Luther, and carried for- 
ward and rendered more complete by Calvin, accom- 



240 APPENDIX. 

plished. The university with its library, — in 
which are to be seen many of the manuscript letters 
of Calvin, and of others, his coadjutors in the work 
of the Reformation, — the churches in which the 
great reformer preached, and lastly, and above all, 
the spot where it is believed his body awaits, in 
dust, the morning of the resurrection, were visited 
with the greatest eagerness and delight, mingled 
with great and pious emotion. 

It was with extreme difficulty that we succeeded 
in bringing him to Paris. His strength seemed to 
be almost wholly exhausted. But throughout the 
entire journey, which was one of great fatigue, — 
notwithstanding that all possible care was taken to 
render it easy, — and often of great suffering, not 
one murmuring word was heard to escape his lips. 
All was ordered just right, in his opinion. His confi- 
dence in God was firm and cheerful. His only re- 
gret was that he had done so little for God, and was 
still so incapable of doing any thing for him. 
Sometimes, too, he was greatly affected by the 
thought that he was not permitted to be the stay of 
his beloved mother, or to perform the part of a 
father to his younger brothers and sisters, which he 
so strongly hoped that he would be permitted to do, 
after the death of his father. But his habitual con- 
fidence in the wisdom and goodness of the divine 
government soon removed his disquietudes, and re- 
restored cheerfulness to his heart and to his counte- 
nance. His conversation was always instructive, 
cheerful, often playful even, always spiritual, just such 



APPENDIX. 241 

as a Christian's should be. He was manifestly pre- 
pared either to live, or to die, just as it might be 
God's will. He seemed to have no distressing fears 
of death. On the contrary, he spoke of death like 
one who had long been familiar with him, and 
awaited his coming as that of a friendly servant, 
sent to call him home to his Lord. 

After our arrival at Paris, we did what we could 
in conjunction with his excellent and attentive 

friends, Messrs. A and L , to find Mr. 

Stearns a comfortable place of rest, where he should 
havre every thing which his affecting circumstances 
required. He found such a place in the family of 
Mr. Henri, a French gentleman, who keeps a board- 
ing house for Americans and English. And during 
the fortnight which elapsed after our return, before I 
set out on a long journey into Germany, Russia and 
Austria, which I made last summer, in behalf of the 
temperance cause, I saw him as often as I could, and 
found him ever in the same sweet state of trust in 
God. Not a fear or doubt, for any considerable time, 
if at all, harassed his mind. The striking charac- 
teristic of his religion was, strong faith in God. 
He lived by faith ; and by its influence he beheld 
the approach of death without dismay. 

After my departure for Russia, my dear wife, as 
she had done before, visited him very often ; indeed, 
as often as her own very delicate health allowed. 
She usually spent an hour or two on each visit, con- 
versing with him, and always closed the interview 
by reading from the Scriptures. The last portion 

VOL. I. 21 



242 APPENDIX. 

which she read was the twenty-third and twenty- 
fourth Psalms. His comments, as she read, were 
beautiful, and often very original and striking. And 
on the last occasion, though he could scarcely speak 
in an audible manner, he often interrupted her by 
requesting to hear some phrase over again, and then 
would say, * How beautiful ! ' ' That does me so 
much good ! ' Every thing which he said indicated 
uncommon preparedness for death. 

On one occasion, he told her that he had that day 
written his last letter to his family, that he had 
arranged all his little worldly affairs, and that he 
trusted his spiritual interests had not been neglected, 
but had long been, in a good degree, attended to. 
He then added, with great apparent composure, and 
even satisfaction, that he was just waiting for the 
coming of his Lord ! 

It would be tedious to go into a more extended 
detail of the incidents relating to the death of this 
interesting servant of God. We shall ever esteem it 
as a great privilege that we were permitted to minis- 
ter to him, even in the very imperfect and humble 
degree in which we did. We were amply reward- 
ed in daily contemplating his meek, serene and 
heavenly deportment. It was enough, and far 
more than enough, to compensate for any little self- 
denial which we made for his benefit. 

Mr. Stearns was no common man. His judg- 
ment was mature, beyond what is ordinarily found 
in one of his age; his imagination was lively and 
well cultivated ; his taste exceedingly refined and 



APPENDIX. 243 

pure ; his knowledge was extensive and select, his 
manners eminently dignified, polished and agreea- 
ble ; and his religion was profound, cordial, benev- 
olent, for it was the ' life of God in the soul of man.' 
He was emphatically a man of prayer. He regard- 
ed well the ' signs of the times.' He was well ac- 
quainted with the progress of the kingdom of God 
on the earth, and he had a heart that could feel, 
and did feel, the dee[est interest in every undertak- 
ing which had for its object the salvation of men. 
In this sense he was no sectarian. He rejoiced 
in the prosperity of all who love our Lord Jesus 
Christ. He was a consecrated man. He kept 
nothing back. He loved to acquire knowledge, 
and even any sort of it which could be useful. 
He advised a young minister from our country, who 
was doubting whether he was doing right to spend 
a year or two in Europe, for the purpose of in- 
creasing his knowledge by study and travel, to see 
all that he could in Europe of the works of art; to 
study well ; to avail himself of every opportunity of 
enlarging his acquaintance with mankind, and to 
consecrate all to God. And he remarked, that he 
himself, though so great an invalid for years as to 
have little or no hopes of living any length of time, 
had acted on this principle ever since he came to 
Europe. * I have seen,' said he, every thing that I 
could, which a Christian ought to see, even whilst I 
was in Italy, though so feeble ; and now, lying here 
on my death-bed, I do not regret it. After all, this 
is a beautiful world, and much of the work of art is 



244 APPENDIX. 

beautiful, and God's works are beautiful And we 
ought to seek to be familiar with them, and to glo- 
rify him in all things.' 

But he is no more with us, for God has taken him 
to himself. How blessed is his situation to day ! 
Whilst we are contending with sin, and pursuing 
our toilsome way through this * vale of tears,' he 
has entered into rest ! But how he is engaged in the 
new world (not exactly new to him now), to which 
he has gone, how his spirit holds communication with 
other holy and happy beings, and above all with the 
adorable Creator and Redeemer, what his thoughts 
and feelings with respect to the scenes of this 
world, are questions which must remain unanswered 
to us. May we be prepared to follow him, and in 
due time hear his Lord and ours call us to receive 
the reward of faithful servants ! 

I am, with great respect, yours affectionately and 
truly, 

R. Baird." 



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